


i think we could do it if we tried

by electrumqueen



Series: things wanted or needed [1]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Bisexuality, Canon Divergence, Coming Out, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Father Figures, Gen, Johnny Lawrence's A+ Parenting, M/M, Past Relationships, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen/pseuds/electrumqueen
Summary: "Thank you," Miguel says. "I promise I won't say anything. To anyone."Robby smiles his wry, tight grin, just like Sensei's. "If you can't tell your worst enemy, who can you tell?"Or,Robby Keene is a bad neighbour with too many secrets. Thankfully, Miguel is a problem solver.
Relationships: Miguel Diaz & Johnny Lawrence, Miguel Diaz/Robby Keene, Miguel Diaz/Robby Keene/Tory Nichols, Robby Keene & Johnny Lawrence, robby keene/original male character, tory nichols/miguel diaz
Series: things wanted or needed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100819
Comments: 32
Kudos: 173





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: lmao the first time i posted this it was missing an entire section from the middle, so that's my bad, and i am embarrassed about it. it's in there now!
> 
> so there's like, a throwaway comment from one of robby's loser friends in season one that implies robby might be gay and i thought it was a great hook! obviously they didn't go with that but they also didn't NOT go with it, you know?
> 
> stumblebee let me cry abt this story incessantly, plotted it w me for many hours of our lives we will never get back, got mad at robby's horrible ex on his behalf, and then extremely graciously allowed me to write this whole story in her gmail inbox. this story absolutely only exists bc of her kindness and support and excellent eye for ways in which robby keene ought to be sad, and i remain, as ever, Overcome w Gladness to have [taylor swift voice] a friend. all mistakes r mine, all the good shit's probably hers.
> 
> title from clairo, sofia. canon diverges from around ep 2.07, but it's sort of a soft slide.
> 
> content in the end notes, pls don't hesitate to let me know if i'm missing a tag or a warning!

Miguel does the meal drop Saturdays and Wednesdays. It's easier that way, because Sensei is usually sleeping off a hangover and he can just let himself in, stock the fridge, and get out. Miguel knows it's better if they don't talk about it, because Sensei is under socialised and bad at emotions, but he always leaves Yaya's casserole dishes clean and stacked next to the kitchen sink.

It's a Wednesday morning, 6:30, when Miguel opens the door, juggling Aisha's mom's chicken salad and a tray of Hawk's dad's brisket. He doesn't have to be super quiet but he's not trying to make noise. He's pushing the door open with his foot, easing in, when all of a sudden he's pressed up against the wall and there's an arm against his throat. "What the fuck!" It's all he can do to balance his shit, but it's four full days of leftovers for Sensei, who eats like shit when you leave him on his own, so he does it.

The light snaps on and Robby Keene steps back, stupid hair falling into his stupid Teen Vogue eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?" He's shirtless, just in boxers. Stupid abs pop in the light. Unfair. Miguel works out like two hours a day and his abs don't pop like that.

Miguel sucks in air and staggers over to the counter, where he can drop his stack of food. "What does it look like?" he's hissing, trying to keep his voice low. "I have a key, asshole. Which is more than I can say for you."

Keene rolls his eyes. He's glowering but he hasn't moved; still standing by the door, hair in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. "Of course you do. What, do you clean his toilet here too?"

Miguel's gonna sucker him right in the mouth. He takes a deep breath - in through your nose, out through your mouth. He opens the fridge and starts unloading. Hawk started labelling all the little trays and his handwriting looks like shit but it's easy to focus on. "It's leftovers," he says. "You can have some if you want. If you live here now." 

"Real subtle," Keene says. His voice is hot and bitter. 

Miguel remembers the way Sensei looked at Sal's. The burger was all right - no seasoning - but the look in his eyes when he talked about Keene, that hurt. The way he, Miguel, felt a soft burst of something warm in his chest, because Sensei chose him. 

It's shitty knowing that Sam's - doing whatever it is she's doing - with Keene. It sucks. It feels like someone's cracked his chest open and is chewing on his heart, slurping the marrow out of his bones. It makes Miguel want to go to the mat with Keene and not leave until he's pulp. 

But it's better when he remembers that Sensei said no matter what, and Sensei doesn't say things he doesn't mean. Well, he does. But he doesn't say them like that. 

When Miguel looks he can see the difference in the room: the backpack on the floor by the door, the pillow and blanket, tossed aside, on the couch. He rests his palm against the fridge door and looks at Keene, keeps his gaze steady. There's snakes that hypnotise you, they just stare forever. 

"My dad has custody," Keene spits. "I wouldn't be here if it was up to me. Does that answer your question?"

Miguel turns back to the counter. Starts to pick up the empty dishes, cushioning the clatter with the flat of his hand. He can feel Keene's eyes on the back of his neck. Like lasers.

Sensei looks at you like that sometimes, too. 

You won, Miguel reminds himself. You won all the things that matter. The competition. And Sensei. 

"Say hi to Sam for me," Miguel says. "If you're hungry the chicken salad's real good." 

He slips his key back in the pocket of his jeans on his way out.

-

  
  


Sensei calls Miguel in the middle of APUSH to tell him to cancel class today. Mrs. Menendez writes Miguel up but it's okay, you need three before they go to the principal and he only has two. He sends the group text from under his desk and the followup email for the parents at lunch. It looks nice, Hawk did a letterhead and everything so the emails look good. 

Aisha, Tory, and Hawk are waiting for him at their lunch table. Tory's shoes are on the table and she's got her head on Aisha's shoulder. Hawk is frowning into his sandwich. 

"What's up with Sensei?" Aisha asks. "Bender again?" 

Miguel shrugs, taking a fry off her tray. "I don't think so." They watered his liquor down a couple months ago and it seems to be working fine. Every now and then Miguel hides a six pack or two, just when Sensei's getting real down. No public drinking for a while. Like a teacher would say, he's figuring it out, but not, because Sensei is like, 50.

He slides into the chair next to Hawk, stretching his legs out under the table. "Robby's there. Robby Keene." Like they know any other Robbys. 

Tory whistles through her teeth. "Abs? Really?" 

"Sensei got custody," Miguel says. "That's what Keene said."

"What about Sensei?" Hawk leans forward, onto his elbows, lunch tray pushed aside. "Did he say anything?" 

Miguel rolls his eyes. It's a little disrespectful but only a little. "He never says anything, man, you know how it is." He does his best gruff white man who's never left the state but still hates immigrants impression. "'Class is cancelled, Diaz. Tell the Internet.'"

"You didn't ask?" 

"I had Menendez breathing down my neck! I said okay, and then I hung up."

Aisha frowns. "Okay," she says. "Should we like, check, or-" 

Everyone is looking at Miguel. Obviously, yeah, Miguel is the resident expert in Sensei, but it's like how archaeologists don't actually know anything about dinosaurs, they're just guessing that they maybe had feathers or lots of fat. Miguel works hard but the most Sensei's ever told him has come out in fits and starts, a 3000 piece puzzle with no instructions and most of the pieces chewed up by wolves. 

Miguel shrugs. "I don't like the guy, but - Sensei is his dad." Understatement followed by an understatement. 

"Now that's what I call fucked up," Tory says approvingly. Tory's fucked up, so when she says it like that, it's a compliment. 

Aisha looks at Miguel like, what the fuck? 

Miguel takes a bite of his sandwich. Chews, swallows. "Give it a couple days," he says, finally. "We can do drills at your place after school, right, A?"

-

It's late when Miguel gets home, Aisha leaning out the window of her car to wish him good night, her face warm in the interior light, as he rolls his bike away. He's feeling sore from where she kicked him in the kidneys, but it's a good sore, accomplishment sore. Tory kneed him in the neck, too, which is less good sore, but it's fine. 

He's thinking about homework on his way through the lot. It's lame but he has a 65 in English and he needs to come up with something to say about Shakespeare. 

Keene is on the landing, smoking. His hair's falling into his eyes. He looks like a Soundcloud rapper. He looks up at the sound of Miguel but he doesn't say anything, just looks at him.

As always, Miguel is the fucking nice guy. He's getting sick of it but this is Sensei's kid. So. "Hey," he says. "I didn't know you smoked."

"You don't know anything about me," Keene says, raking his eyes up Miguel. Miguel knows Sensei is poor as shit, just like the rest of them except Aisha, and Keene's got to be too since he's here. Miguel still feels shitty, poor and dirty and suddenly brown.

"Cool," Miguel says. Lets his shoulders stiffen, closes his hands around his bike frame. "Have a good night."

"Wait," Keene says. A puff of smoke, dark eyes, dark mouth. "The chicken salad was good. Thanks."

Miguel nods. "You're welcome." 

-

Sensei shows up on Thursday. He looks like shit but on the scale probably a 3 out of 10 disasters, so it's just a normal Thursday. He makes them do burpees forever, which sucks and is unfair, and when Tory mutters as much to Hawk they get double burpees. Miguel keeps his mouth shut, because he fucking hates burpees.

After class he ducks into the back to check Sensei's laptop. There's a ton of porn, obviously - it's weird, like, throwback shit? He's never seen so much pube in his life - but Tory said _you gotta make sure he doesn't get into that Q shit_ and they all stared at her in shock because it was so obvious they didn't know how they hadn't thought about it earlier. Sensei is one bad google dive from 9/11 truther shit, except that Miguel is not entirely sure he can like, read good. Anyway, it's worth checking up on, and Hawk got _caught_ last week and Sensei thought he needed to get a sex talk and that's how they ended up with a condom jar in the back room. Miguel said _yeah we should probably get dental dams_ and Sensei's eyes bugged out of his head. He has that one vein that's gonna blow. 

The point is Miguel is there for totally respectable reasons, scrolling through search history because of the goodness of his heart and the desire to keep Sensei off the chans. 

_What do when my kid is gay?_

Holy _shit._

It's right there. Right in the middle of the search history. Might as well be blinking bright red. 

_I should not be looking at this. Holy shit._

Of course he keeps scrolling. Sofia from the Sunday class is bi, sometimes her girlfriend picks her up from class, and Scout in the Tuesday 4pm is nonbinary, both of which Sensei has not so much handled _well_ as he has 1) stood still while receiving the information, 2) turned red, 3) called the entire class pussies, and then 4) acted like the whole thing did not happen. So.

_What to do kid girlfriend and boyfriend_

Bisexuality, Miguel thinks. Possibly _not_ better. Especially for Sensei. 

And then he thinks: _Keene._ Keene with the face, with the hair - but Keene with _Sam._ Keene with his knee on Miguel's throat. 

Shit.

Miguel shuts the laptop, feeling sick and stupid. It's none of his fucking business. It isn't. 

Keene's with Sam. He's seen them together. Everyone's seen them together.

Sensei's a crappy dad. That's not hard to believe either. Miguel doesn't know anyone with a good dad except for Aisha, and those are long odds. 

Whatever else, Keene's business is Keene's business. Miguel's only here to look out for Sensei, because he's weird and old and has no friends except for them. Keene never taught Miguel anything. 

The laptop was fine. No Q stuff, only a little weird shit about lizard people. They're working on the lizard people. Sensei's a snake guy so you gotta work the angle. 

_Stop thinking about the other shit, Diaz!_

He's fucking trying. 

Miguel gets a ride home with Sensei after they've closed up. It's nice, getting to ride shotgun with Sensei while he blasts Speedwagon, singing along; Miguel knows all the words. It was a long, hot summer.

They don't turn towards the complex, peeling down the road instead towards the hospital. 

"Sal's?" Miguel asks. 

The tiniest smile pulls at the edge of Sensei's mouth. "You callin' me predictable?"

"Never, Sensei," Miguel says, but he's grinning, too.

It's dumb and cliché - loser kid of colour, doesn't have a dad, ends up sticking himself with loser old white guy whose life sucks - but it's _nice._ He's _happy_. They do karate together during the day and sometimes Sensei comes over for dinner with Miguel and his mom and his yaya, and Sensei's even helping him with his college apps, bitching at him to do his math homework even when he just wants to go over the newest drills from class. 

It feels stupid. He should be happy for Sensei that he's got his kid back. He was cut up about it, devastated. And Miguel never met his dad. He should be happy for Keene, too. Because Sensei _does_ have his shit together now. He's a better person. He used to be such a fucking asshole, and Miguel knew that even when he was hanging on Sensei's every word. Now Miguel's stronger - could probably hold Sensei in a fight, if he had too - but so is Sensei, and he's kinder, too. Or - more willing to be kind where people can see. The kindness was probably always there.

Miguel knows Sensei. He knows he'd move the earth for the kids at Cobra Kai, and for Miguel, too. Miguel, especially. 

Except, maybe- not. Anymore.

"What's up?" Sensei asks. They've stopped at a traffic light. He's looking over at Miguel, eyes very blue, fingers drumming on the wheel.

"What?" Miguel says.

Sensei waves a hand. "You're usually talkier than this. I'm being nice. Usually I can't pay you to shut up."

"You've never tried," Miguel says. "How much are you offering?" 

Sensei whacks him on the shoulder, but lightly. "A burger. I'm offering you a burger."

"All right then," Miguel says. But he feels something ease up. At least a little.

Sensei buys them both Banquets - _just one, kid, don't think it's gonna be a habit_ \- and they sit by the window, Sensei with his back to it, Miguel looking out at the hospital. The burger's the same - good, not exactly flavourful, but the kind of food white guys like Sensei always like. Miguel likes it too. He _is_ American, after all.

He texted his mom, _dinner w sensei_ and she texted back, _ok, be quiet when you get back, yaya went to bed_. She's on lates this week. Maybe she'll look out the window and see them.

She didn't like Sensei, at first. But now she gets him, just like Aisha and Hawk and Miguel: he's just trying his best. Not _doing_ his best, but. Trying to. So she doesn't trust him but she trusts that he cares about Miguel. And that matters.

"So," Sensei says. He's draped his fingers around the neck of his bottle. They look almost delicate like that. Not like instruments of destruction; just like hands. "I wanted to tell you first."

Miguel swallows. "I ran into Robby," he says, looking down into his beer. "You don't have to give me the whole speech. I know - he's your son. He comes first. But I matter too, blah blah blah. It's fine, Sensei. I get it."

Sensei reels back for a moment, but he catches himself quick. "Kid," he says. "It's complicated."

"Complicated enough that you're gonna skip more classes?" It comes out bitter, too quick. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

Sensei flinches again, the lines around his eyes deepening. "Hey," he says, firmly. "Remember what I told you? I'll always have your back." 

The ceiling fan's spinning lazily, around and around in slow circles. It's fucking hot out so it's not doing much, just turning the air. It smells like stale grease and hot potatoes and salt. 

"Yeah," Miguel says. It doesn't sound convincing, even to him. 

"I mean it," Sensei says. He's leaning forward, he's got laser eyes. He holds out one hand, palm open. "Not just about the dojo. About you. Okay?" 

Miguel screws his eyes shut. "Your _son's home_ , Sensei." 

And then Sensei's getting up, the sound of his feet enormous, and he's coming around the table and Miguel is getting up so Sensei can wrap his arms around Miguel and say, "don't make me say it, kid." Miguel's fucking strong, now, after all this training - but Sensei is broad, like an oak tree. Even though Miguel's seen Sensei at his worst, even though he knows Sensei's best isn't something to write home about either - it still feels good. Safe. Like nothing's gonna blow them away.

"Okay," Miguel says, hugging him back. "Okay, okay."

Sensei pulls back, glaring fiercely around the restaurant in case anyone was looking at them, and sits back down. "All right. Can we talk about this now?"

Miguel feels like a little kid, embarrassed by even the prospect of doubting his mom’s love. "Okay," he says. "Robby told me you got custody. He seemed pretty mad about it."

"Yeah," Sensei says. He sighs. "You remember what I told you, right? I wasn't a good dad to him. I've got a lot of making up to do."

 _If he sticks around for it,_ Miguel thinks, but doesn't say. "I thought he lived with his mom."

"She's gone," Sensei says. A little scowl is furrowing itself between his eyebrows. "Cabo. She said, if I got to fuck off, so did she. I couldn't say anything else to that. He was staying with _LaRusso_ but fuck that. He's my kid. Aisha's dad helped me out, found me a fancy lawyer who gave me a good deal. I'll be paying it off for a while, but - that's the situation. I wanted you to hear it from me. So if things are rocky for the next little while -"

"Cut you some slack?" Miguel offers. "Never done that before." He grins, to take the sting out of it.

Sensei grins back. "Glad we understand each other."

When they get back to the complex, the steps are empty. Miguel finds himself scanning the building for Keene's face, the familiar slender shape of his shadow, but there's nothing, not even the familiar light at Sensei's windows. 

"Night," he says. 

"Night, kid," Sensei says. He reaches out and ruffles Miguel's hair. "Sleep well."

-

  
  


Sam catches Miguel at lunch. She's sneaky - that's a LaRusso thing, he's starting to get. One minute he's at his locker the next his wrist's caught in a vice-grip and he and Sam are in the accessible stall in the girl's bathroom in the basement. He's right up close to her and he can smell her perfume. 

"Uh, hi," he says.

She narrows her eyes. She's beautiful, obviously. Her hair's in one of those complex braids that make him think of getting his ass kicked, and she's wearing a green sundress and a little black backpack. "You live across the hall from Lawrence, right?" 

He nods before he thinks about it. "We live in the same complex, yeah. As _Sensei_ Lawrence."

"Whatever," she says, in the dismissive voice of someone who has never lived in a house without her own bathroom. "Robby's there, right?"

"Hi, Sam," Miguel says. "How are you, Sam? I'm doing great, thanks for asking." 

She sighs. "Hi, Miguel," she says. "I'm sorry that your dojo is full of psychos so we haven't seen each other much lately. Can you tell my friend, who lives across the hall from you, to call me, please?"

"Can't you tell him yourself?" His stupid brain heard _friend_ not _boyfriend_ and it's stalling out. Stupid fucking brain.

"I could, if he was talking to me, which he isn't. I'm pretty sure it's _Sensei Lawrence_ 's fault, anyway."

It's not completely implausible. Sensei does stupid shit all the time. 

Miguel steps back. "He wouldn't."

"He hates my dad," Sam says, "and he hates me. And that's not Robby's fault! Robby's great!" She groans in frustration, shaking her head. "Look, do it or don't. But - if you could just tell Robby that I don't give a fuck what Luke says, and I miss him - I would really appreciate it. Okay? That's it." 

And then she's gone, and Miguel is alone in the accessible stall in the girl's bathroom. 

Still smells like her hair, though.

His friends ask what held him up. Tory's the one whose question has the sharpest edge, whose stare lingers the longest. Miguel's not sure if she's being weird about him or weird about Sam or weird about him-and-Sam and at this point it's too late to ask. Everyone's got their own shit to be weird about.

He lies and says he forgot his books. 

Sensei texts and asks if he'll run the beginner class today. He says okay.

-

Miguel has to bike home after class, but the sun's still out and it's not too far. It's far enough, though, that he's sweating as he drags his bike in through the lot.

"Diaz." It's Keene, standing outside Sensei's door. He's wearing jeans and a Metallica t shirt but both of them look too big, like they don't quite fit.

"Keene," Miguel counters. He's panting so it doesn't come out cucumber-cool. "Your dad okay? He wasn't in class today."

Maybe he's doing it on purpose, at least a little. If you don't want him, we do. 

"He's fine. I'll tell him you said hi." He settles his back against the wall, watching Miguel drag his way in. 

So much of Miguel wants to just run up there, sock him in the teeth. Take that, Miyagi-do. Like he did at All Valley - press the advantage, prove the fucking point. 

He sets his bike down outside their front door. Part of him considers just - not saying anything. Pretending he hasn't seen Sam, that she's still not talking to him. 

But it's Sam, and it's him, and his mom raised him right. 

"Hey," he says. "Your girlfriend said to call her."

Keene stares at him. He's got flat eyes. Snake eyes. 

Miguel takes a deep breath. "She said - not to worry about some guy. Luke?" 

Keene moves faster than Miguel can even think, arm against his throat, slamming him into the plaster. "The fuck did you say?" 

"Jeez," Miguel wheezes, digging his hands into Keene's forearm, trying to wedge him off. For someone so lean, Keene does not fucking move. Miguel's height advantage doesn't matter with Keene pressed up against him, hot and furious. "I thought we were the offence guys."

"The best defense is offence," Keene counters. Presses his arm heavier into Miguel's windpipe. "Who did you tell? Stupid mohawk kid? Psycho girl?" 

"Nobody," Miguel grits out. 

He knows how to flip Keene. Get some leverage from behind him, kick out Keene's legs - he's up on his toes to beat the height difference, leaves him vulnerable, in Miguel's favour. 

But - 

It's Sensei's kid. 

Sensei said, I'm trying. 

So. 

"Let go of me, man! I swear I didn't tell anyone!" 

Keene backs off abruptly, dropping his arms to his sides. He looks skinny and tired, shoulders slumping under the t-shirt Miguel recognises as one of Sensei's. 

Miguel coughs, doubles over. "You need anger management," he says, rubbing his neck. "What the fuck, dude."

Keene shrugs, scratches the back of his neck. "You really didn't tell anyone?" He's not looking at Miguel, just at the floor. 

"Just you," Miguel says. "Just - call her, will you? She's freaked out."

Miguel's trying to catch up on his algebra, which is a fun Friday night for sure, but he told Tory and Aisha and the guys they'd go to the beach on Saturday so he really has to get his head down. It's late so he's working on his bed, next to the window that overlooks the street. The one streetlamp is going out, which sucks, because it's the one Mom walks by when she's coming up. Not that he could jump out the window or anything if he was coming home in a hurry - and she's made it clear to him that she's lasted 17 years without his karate to save her in a pinch and won't be starting now - but he just feels better. Friday lates are crazy. She's always saying that. 

So Miguel's sitting on his bed trying to do quadratics or whatever, one eye on the window, which is why it's not weird that he sees Keene coming out in a hoodie at 11:45. At first it just looks like some guy in a hoodie, which is pretty normal, but Miguel's been trained to be hypersensitive about Keene, on account of all the times he's kicked Miguel's ass. So he leans out a little more, folds his book away. 

He knows how the guy moves. It's LaRusso shit, defensive and careful. Light. 

Cobra patterns are different. Miguel sees it in all of them, all the time - the sureness, the aggression, the confidence. He didn't use to move like that. Sometimes he still has to do a double take, when they're all together, when he's at the head of them. He never thought, you know, like the Lion King - this will all be yours. But it is. 

Anyway, he's watching Keene, even though Keene is none of his business and he doesn't want Keene to be any of his business and that's pretty much the only thing they both agree on.

He looks small, from way up here. Wrapped up in the hoodie, sitting on the curb to smoke. If Sensei caught Miguel doing it he'd yell about lung capacity, probably while drinking a Banquet, but Sensei's nowhere to be seen, just Keene. 

Miguel's never really thought of him as short, mostly because he's always kicking someone's ass and there are more important things to pay attention to, but he just looks - 

You're reading into it, Miguel thinks. The search on Sensei's laptop sticking in the back of his mind. And isn't that kind of homophobic? Thinking someone's short just because they're gay? 

Not that Keene is gay. 

There are a thousand reasons Sensei would be googling, and only, like, ten of them have any relation to reality. Sensei's brain makes the weirdest connections. He thought Miguel had a girlfriend named Siri. 

A car pulls up. It's a silver Range Rover, gleaming - out of place for the neighbourhood. 

A guy gets out. He's tall, built. Blond, the kind of blond that shines under the streetlights. 

Moves like a Cobra. Steady, sure, like he’s entitled to the world. Maybe that’s just being rich.

Keene gets to his feet. The hood falls back. It's dark so Miguel has to squint, can't see their faces. 

He can see that they're up close to each other, though. The guy's got half a foot, maybe more on Keene. 

Keene's shoulders are up, stiff. Defensive. He's maybe saying something but Miguel can't hear. 

"What the hell, Robby!" That's loud enough to make it across the lawn and through the window. 

Keene shoves him, both palms flat against the guy's chest, and then - 

The guy has Keene by the collar, like a fish on a hook. Miguel waits, one heartbeat, then another, but Keene doesn't move; he looks helpless, like a doll. 

Miguel doesn't think. He just runs.

By the time he's on the ground Miguel's realized exactly how much Keene probably doesn't want him there, and also how much Keene's kicked his ass in the past over shit like this. But he's Cobra Kai, man, strike first. 

He slows to a walk and pushes the door open. Just going for a walk, you know? Like people do. 

"Diaz?" He can see Keene's face, now, in the shadow and the moonlight. He looks tired but not scared. 

"Oh, hey," Miguel says. Stupid squeaky voice. "I'm just uh, waiting for my mom. Out here. She usually gets home around now."

"You gonna introduce me?" The guy emerges from behind Keene. Up close the blond is _blond_ and the eyes are as blue as Sensei's - a square jawed white guy face. He's wearing a leather jacket and jeans that even Miguel can see are expensive.

Keene says, "I thought you were leaving." But it's dull, there's no bite to it. "Miguel Diaz, Luke Malone. Malone, Diaz."

"Nice to meet you," Miguel says. _Luke._

Malone smiles at him, an easy, wide, smile, and drapes an arm around Keene's shoulders. If Keene looks like an Instagram model Malone is the YouTube version. He looks like a CW character, or one of the Iowa wannabe actors always moving out to Reseda because they don't know shit about LA traffic. "Back atcha," he says, holding out his hand. "Any friend of Robby's is a friend of mine."

Miguel waits for Keene to say, _we're not friends,_ but he doesn't, just stands there. "Sure," Miguel says. 

Malone's grip is firm, almost too tight. Almost. Plausible deniability. "Robby's right, I should be going. This is for you," he tells Keene, and then he slips something into the pocket of Keene's hoodie. "Just for you, all right?" 

There's a long pause, where Miguel thinks Keene might tell him to fuck off, but-

"Thanks," Keene says. Grits it out. Eyes down, looking at Malone's blinding white sneakers.

Malone winks. "You know where to find me," he says. "And I know where to find you."

As soon as the Rover's disappeared into the night, Keene wheels on him. "Waiting for your mom?" 

"I'm sorry," Miguel retorts, and then cuts himself off. _Sorry you looked like you were in trouble and I wanted to help._ "Are you okay?" 

Keene looks pissed off, fists clenched at his sides, face flushed. It's almost a relief. He didn't look like that with the guy. He looked - well. Kind of like how Sensei looked around Sensei Kreese, before he left town. "None of your business if I am or not."

Miguel puts his hands up, palms out. "Whatever, dude." And then, softer, "Did you call Sam?"

"Do you _ever_ let up," Keene says, sighing as he lowers back onto the curb. "Diaz, seriously. No wonder you needed my loser dad to teach you to fight."

Miguel sits down next to him, even though he wasn't invited even a little bit. His mom's had shitty boyfriends before, guys who were mean. Keene can handle himself but Miguel remembers how those guys made him feel - stupid for even thinking they were going to be friends. Stock-still when he realized they weren't. "Was that Luke?"

Keene rakes his fingers back through his stupid Spader hair. All the Spader characters suck, anyway. Except for Stargate. Stargate was fine. "Diaz."

That's a yes. 

"He seems like a jerk," Miguel says. "Rich douchebags, huh?"

Keene lifts his head, looking at Miguel through his bangs. "What?"

"He's your friend, right? Sorry, but he sucks."

Keene laughs, low and brittle. "Don't hear that all the time. Moms love him."

"Dads too?" Miguel stretches out his legs, but he keeps his eyes on Keene. 

A tiny twist at the corner of his mouth. That looks like Sensei. Just a little. "Yeah."

-

On Saturday Miguel gets sunburnt on the beach and ends up staying over at Tory's mom's, on the floor of Tory's tiny bedroom. They made out a little but they were both pretty drunk, and it also hurt every time she touched him, so. When he wakes up on Sunday he feels like absolute shit.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Tory says, leaning over him. She's so hot, it's unreal: even like this, with the sun coming in through the window and her hair wild from yesterday's salt, old mascara rubbed into the edges of her eyes. She drank more than he did last night, but she's grinning, wide and bright.

"Morning," Miguel says. He can't help smiling back. And then - "shit, it's Sunday! Can you drive?"

"You're so lucky I'm the coolest girlfriend alive," Tory says, from the driver's seat of her piece of shit Camry ("Got it from my mom's ex for five hundred bucks, total steal"). "Do you ever like, sit down and think about how weird this is?" 

"Aisha's first," Miguel says, buckling his seatbelt. It smells like old cheese puff. "The cooler's at hers."

"How old do you think he is?" Tory asks. She doesn't wait for Miguel to answer, just slams her foot on the gas. "Like, 50, right."

Miguel's busy grabbing the suicide strap. "What the hell!" It's not like he's not used to crazy driving. He carpools with Sensei. 

"I just think it's funny that you, a seventeen year old, and the spreadsheet on your phone, are the only things keeping this man fed." Tory is too fucking calm for someone shredding the speed limit in a residential neighbourhood. It is unfairly hot. "Like, not even a microwave?" 

"He eats corner store pizza," Miguel says. "I really don't know how he isn't dead." It feels disrespectful, but it also feels like he's in a car with a beautiful girl, and Sensei definitely would support agreeing with a hot girl. Actually, he would say, dump milk duds on her head, but Miguel is fluent in Lawrence by now; he can read between the lines. 

When she laughs she snorts a little bit. It's kind of gross but he likes it. He likes pretty much everything about her. 

_Girlfriend_ , he thinks. God, it's buzzing through to his fingertips.

Well, also the sunburn. That's buzzing too. 

It's hot in the landing, Miguel's arms full of cooler and oven trays; and it's still hot out, will be dry like this until November if they're lucky. They just raided Yaya's leftovers, the ones she leaves special for Sensei. It felt weird to have Tory in his house but not bad weird, just okay. Maybe good. Hard to tell. 

"C'mon," Tory says, plastered to his back, chin hooked over his shoulder. "Just a little peek? I'll help you unload the booty. I'm great at fridge Tetris."

"I don't know," Miguel says, reaching back to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I kind of promised, you know? He gave me his key."

She sighs. "You don't wanna live dangerously?" 

They got through the pickups faster than Miguel's ever done them, even with his mom or Aisha driving, and it's noon, which puts the hour firmly into still sleeping off hangover in the Sensei weekend schedule. 

"Okay," Miguel says. "But you have to be quiet."

"This is heartwarming," Tory says. "We're the Mighty Ducks. Only instead of Emilio Estevez we got this."

"Do not make me regret this," he teases, digs around in the pocket of his jeans and passes her the key. 

It is kind of nice to have someone else open the door. Less of a pain to balance. 

She props the door open with her hip, takes the top two boxes off his pile so he can come in past her. 

It's like being a team, but like - being a unit, you know? Just the two of them, together. 

He wants it to make him think of Sam, but it doesn't. 

"Hey, Diaz." Keene's lying on the couch with a Banquet and a couple empties, but he lifts his head when they come in, stretches his arms up and over like a cat. This time his shirt looks like it fits and wasn't made in the 80s and his hair's up in a little bun on top of his head. "Food delivery again?" 

"Wednesdays and Sundays," Miguel says, dumping the cooler on the counter. "We got you extra chicken."

Tory looks back and forth between them, head poking over the top of her casserole dish. "You two are cool now?" 

"Just being neighbourly," Keene says. "You guys want beers?" 

Tory shifts against Miguel's shoulder. I'll follow your lead, she's saying, like she would in a fight, two on two against Hawk and Aisha: you pick, offense or defense, kick or punch, I got your back. 

Miguel leans against the counter. His back is sore where his t-shirt touches the sunburn. "Neighbourly, huh?" 

"I'm trying this new thing," Keene says. "Being less of a shithead than my old man."

Tory bristles but Miguel catches her wrist, tangles their fingers together. "Sounds good, man, thanks."

They're each two beers in when Tory says, "we should spar." Her hair's up in a bun and she's got her feet in Miguel's lap. 

"Hey, two on one's not fair," Miguel says. It feels like they're on an island, here, buzzed on a Sunday with Sensei snoring in the bedroom; it feels like the real world can't touch them. Why else would Keene let them in? Surely not if everything is as it was.

Like they're in a bubble and if they push too hard - or if Miguel kicks Keene into it - the bubble might burst. 

Keene is lying on his back on the carpet; he's made a little pillow of his arms and his hair's falling into loose tendrils around his face. "One on one," he says. "You two, go. Winner takes me."

"We have to go outside," Miguel says. "If Sensei wakes up-"

Keene laughs, a wry little sound. "He won't. But sure, it's nice out."

"Parking lot's usually not too busy this time of day," Miguel offers. "I train there sometimes."

"Huh," Keene says. He gets to his feet in one smooth, fluid, movement; his tee rides up, baring a long sliver of (ugh) abs. "Road beer?" 

Tory narrows her eyes. "No," she says. "I see through you." She leans forward, half-crawling across Miguel's lap to press her lips to his ear; her breath smells like beer and toothpaste and her hair is falling in his face. "He's way less annoying without the princess."

"Hey," Miguel says, but half-heartedly. 

It's fun to spar with Tory. They know each other so well by now - Cobra shit, you know? She strikes when he would strike, follows through where he would never flinch. He can take her based on weight and muscle but that's not the fun part, Sensei is always telling him; the fun part is when they're evenly matched. 

So when he spars with Tory he never uses his weight; it's a mind game where they're evenly matched. She's smart and hyper-aware of her body, and of his body, but they're both pretty buzzed and loose. It feels good to have his hands all over her. 

They haven't had sex. He's not being weird about it, but maybe he's being weird about it. Maybe it's just that he's worried it won't be as good as this. Why trade something that makes sense for something that doesn't?

 _To get off, dumbass_.

But. 

She grins and lets him flip her. He pulls the blow, catching some of her weight so she hits the gravel gently, a light thunk of her back into the dirt. "I wanna see it," she murmurs. 

"Shit stirrer," he whispers, but lets her tap out. 

Keene unfurls from the gravel, raising a hand to shade his eyes. His shadow stands behind him, a long spider twice his length. 

Tory grins. Not really at either of them, particularly; a bright, feral, baring of teeth. _Take that, universe_. "Your move."

Miguel takes a breath, just one, and then Keene is on him. 

God, that's good. 

Johnny Lawrence taught Miguel everything that matters about karate. A ton of other stuff too, some things that matter and some that don't, but the karate, despite all the black and white and shades of grey on the walls of the dojo, boils down to this: _if you're not the best, get beat by him._

Game fucking on. 

-

Tory kisses Miguel goodbye, pats Keene on the cheek and says, "better luck next time." He watches her car tear off into the exhaust fumes and then Keene says, "Oh, that's gonna be a bleeder," and taps the scrape on Miguel's forehead, above his left eye. His fingers are light like butterfly wings. 

They pause at the landing in front of 109. Miguel's mom isn't home and Yaya is pretty old school about him coming home beat up, but he also smells like beer and she's not so old school about that. 

Keene - Robby - catches him looking. 

"C'mon," Robby says. "He doesn't have shit, but he has a good first aid kit."

Miguel wants to say, yeah I know, I've been through all of it, but he doesn't. He just follows Robby in.

Sensei is standing at the counter, picking at Aisha's dad's mac n cheese. "Took you long enough," he says, before he turns, and then he does an obvious double take. "Kid?" 

Robby flinches at Miguel's shoulder. If they were friends Miguel would bump his shoulder, remind him Miguel's right here too. 

But they're just people who live near each other and sometimes beat each other up. 

So. 

"Hey, Sensei," Miguel says. "Robby-" and boy does that sound weird in his mouth, too thick for his tongue, "Robby's just helping me out with a couple scrapes."

Sensei clears his throat. "Sure," he says. "That's why we have mats at the dojo."

"Whatever," Robby says. "Under the bathroom sink?" 

"Yeah," Sensei says. "Hey, did you drink all my beer?" 

"I did," Robby says. "Call it birthday presents seventeen years running, if you want."

"Sorry, Sensei," Miguel says, "but my head, you know-"

"Sure," Sensei says, waving him towards the bathroom. He's got a weird look on his face but it could be constipation; sometimes he picks the spinach out of the lasagna. 

"Sit down," Robby says. He's kneeling on the bathroom floor, poking around under the sink. He's tucked his hair behind his ears. 

Miguel sighs and puts the toilet lid down. "You sure this is okay?" 

"It's fine," Robby says, fishing out a handful of bandages and the alcohol. "You're his favourite kid, anyway."

"I'm not," Miguel protests. 

"Shh," Robby says. He's smiling a little bit, like he did when he had Miguel on his back, before Miguel swept his legs out from under him and took the upper hand. 

Miguel smiles back. 

"So," Sensei says, leaning in the doorway, "who won?" 

"This is gonna sting," Robby tells Miguel, ignoring Sensei. He tips the first pour of rubbing alcohol onto the cotton round, and then, more gently than Miguel thought he was capable of, delicately presses it to the scrape. His wrist is right at eye level. 

"Son of a-" Miguel wouldn't call it a sting. 

"Don't be a baby," Sensei says. "It's nice you're making friends, Robby. Change from all the losers."

"Careful, Dad," Robby says, "where do you think I got it from?"

"Every single one of his friends," Sensei says to Miguel, "worse than the losers who came in when we started Cobra Kai. At least you dorks wanted to change."

"Uh," Miguel says. 

But Robby's hands are steady and something like a grin is stretching across his mouth. "Sure, Dad. Tell me all about my playdates."

"There was that one kid," Sensei says. "The big one, the blond one." He snaps his fingers. "Logan? Larry? We went to Golf N Stuff, he won you that elephant when you were all pissy because you couldn't make the shot. What happened to that guy?" 

"His name's Luke," Robby says. His fingers waver just for a moment. "He graduated. He's at Stanford."

"Huh," Sensei says. "See? Like I keep saying, make something of yourself. Go back to school. Right, Miguel?" 

Miguel puts his hands up. "Not my fight, Sensei."

"All done," Robby says. "See, I clean up after myself."

It feels better when Miguel reaches up to touch it. Just a little bump of cloth and the medical tape over it. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Robby gets to his feet and offers Miguel a hand up. His grip is warm, dry. "Dad, we'll be in my room. C'mon, Diaz."

Sensei steps out of the door, but he's watching them. Miguel shrugs helplessly when he thinks Robby isn't looking, but Sensei just shrugs back. 

The room is the same size as Miguel's. But it's bare, empty - not even a headboard. Just a desk and a twin mattress and a bunch of boxes. 

Robby climbs onto the mattress and leans up to open the window. He doesn't move like someone who just got kicked in the ribs, which Miguel knows for a fact he is. He's resilient. Gets up when you knock him down. "Hey, pass me the box on the desk, will you?" 

Miguel shuts the door behind them. "Shoebox?" Adidas on the top, three stripes. It smells - 

"It's just weed," Robby says. He looks at Miguel cautiously, through his eyelashes. "If you want."

"Uh, okay. Sure. Thanks. I've never done it before? Is that - okay?" 

Robby laughs. It's a real laugh, maybe the first time Miguel's ever heard him laugh without meanness in it. "Yeah," he says. "Makes it better, maybe. Dealing drugs to my dad's favourite kid."

"I'm not-" Miguel starts, and then he says, "I didn't know my dad, either."

"Oh, I know my dad. That's the problem."

But he shakes his head and looks away. 

Robby's phone is in a bowl, playing 90s punk. Miguel did not know phones could get this loud, but it's doing it. Kinda makes his ears hurt but it's okay.

Robby rolls the joint deftly, easily. "I'm probably better at this than I am at karate," he tells Miguel, conspiratorial. "Way more practice."

Miguel splutters on the first inhale, chokes on his own spit and gets the smoke stuck in his nose. "Ow," he says. "I don't think I did that right."

Robby has these big dimples. You don't see them when he's scowling, which is most of the time. But when he's smiling, which is right now, they light up his whole face. "Come here," he says, patting the mattress next to him, so Miguel does. 

The sheets are plain grey, pulling at the edges. He settles down a foot away from Robby; maybe he likes the guy more, now, but still. 

"They were racecars when I got here," Robby says, seeing him looking. "That's why I was sleeping on the couch."

"That's kinda dumb," Miguel says. 

Robby laughs. "Get it from my dad. We're stubborn. C'mere, Diaz, seriously." He holds the joint in his fingers, carefully, delicately. "All you have to do is breathe in, okay?" 

"Okay," Miguel says. He lets himself scoot a little closer to Robby, watching the cherry in his hands. 

Robby takes the hit and leans forward, curling those light hands around Miguel's cheek, pulling him in-

And then Robby's mouth is right there, so close they could touch, if he wanted, and Miguel almost sputters but his lips are dry and the smoke is curling across the space between them and Miguel —

"Breathe in," Robby whispers, against his cheek. "See? You got it."

And he does. 

"I was doing all right, for once in my life," Robby says, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Nice house, milk in the fridge, adults who actually gave a shit about me, _Sam_ -" 

Miguel's bones feel heavy. It's nice; nice enough that even her name doesn't flip-flop in his stomach. "So what happened?" He can't imagine giving Sam up on purpose. "Your dad just showed up?" It's not beyond Sensei but it is, kind of, beyond Robby.

Robby sighs and flops backwards into the bed. His eyebrows furrow, very slightly. "You know who that guy is."

"Which guy?" 

"You're not stupid, don't insult me."

"Luke. The guy Sam told you not to worry about." The guy your dad likes. 

"Yeah." Robby sits up, eyes searching Miguel's face. He must find whatever it is he's looking for. "My - ex, I guess. The only guy I ever - whatever. Luke."

"Oh," Miguel says. "You know, Sofia's gay. Bi. She has a girlfriend. They're cool."

Robby laughs. "God, Diaz."

"Sorry," Miguel says. "I just-" 

"It's okay. It's nice, I think." And then--"You're the first person I ever told, I think. A bunch of people knew, or he told them, or whatever, but - you're the first one. From me."

"Thank you," Miguel says. "I promise I won't say anything. To anyone."

Robby smiles his wry, tight grin, just like Sensei's. "If you can't tell your worst enemy, who can you tell?"

"Did you - does your dad know?" 

"Kind of. He's the one I didn't tell."

"He likes him though, right?" 

The music's loud and the walls are bare. If Miguel reached out, his pinky would touch Robby's. He doesn't. 

Robby sighs, lying back down. His legs dangle off the edge of the bed. "You're a virgin, right?" 

"Hey man, I thought we were cool." He can't bring himself to get too heated about it; it's just a fact. Tory isn't, he is. Maybe Sam is. He doesn't know about that, but it's not his business anymore, if it ever was.

"There's nothing wrong with it. I'm just saying, I was too, when I met this guy. Luke. I was like fourteen maybe? Ninth grade. At this party where I didn't know anyone, but I had some of my mom's pills so they thought I was cool." Robby's hair spills out around his face, like a halo. "We had sex in his mom's bedroom. I think he never thought he would see me again, but-"

"But?" Miguel did not go to parties when he was fourteen, unless you count pizza parties or sleepovers. Miguel was a certified loser before Sensei, and he would probably still be one without him. Sometimes he thinks things were simpler then, but he knows they weren't. 

Robby rolls his eyes. "Do you know what chlamydia is?"

"Oh my god," Miguel says. "Wait, why are you telling me this?"

Robby shrugs. "You can keep a secret. Right?" He rolls, one smooth line; his arm presses across Miguel's chest. Miguel can feel his pulse ricocheting through both of their skin. 

"Yeah," Miguel says. Staring up at Robby, Robby's hair falling around both of them. It feels kind of like when Tory says, _just you and me, right?_ and he wants to say, _actually there's a whole bunch of us,_ but he also knows what she means, and he wants that, too.

"Okay," Robby says. 

The noise wraps around them, like the smoke. It's easy to believe there's nobody else in the world. Miguel licks his lips.

"Okay," Robby says, again. He rolls back, away. It feels like being dunked in the ocean on a hot day. "Well, I had that. And I didn't know what it was or why, so I found him and asked him what the fuck was going on. And he took me to a clinic and got me the antibiotics and after that I guess - I guess he thought I was funny, or something. Funny, or fun. We hung out a lot."

"Rich family, right?" They both dated Sam. They both know what that means. 

"Yeah. He wasn't weird about it. I guess. Maybe I just didn't think it was weird."

"Your dad told me about the day you were born," Miguel says. Blurts it out. Feels like - like he owes Robby a secret, or something. Or he feels bad, maybe. Or it's just that they know each other through the strangest lenses, through the stories and desires of everyone else. "He told me he was on a bender."

This smile is crooked. No dimples. "He's a loser, what can I say." 

"But he liked Luke."

"He met him once. Luke's - charming. Mom loves him. She would never - even if I was gay, she'd tell me she loved me. She would say it didn't matter. She'd mean it. Dad - if he knew he'd probably break his back trying to fight him. That's if he cared enough."

"He-"

"Save it, Diaz." Robby isn't mean when he says it. Just wry. "It's okay. I've been telling myself the story my whole life. He's just fucked up, right? He drinks too much. His stepdad was a real asshole. He's trying his best. It's cool; it ends up the same. He lets you down. Or maybe he just lets me down." The turn of his mouth, the fall of his eyelashes. "It'd be funny if it was just me, don't you think?"

"No," Miguel says. Too fast, without thinking. "No. It wouldn't."

A startled little bark of a laugh. "Thanks." 

"I mean it." He does. 

The song skitters to a halt. Robby sighs and rolls up, stretches his arm across to the desk and fishes the phone out. "Sorry, I don't really like this shit, but my dad hates it, so."

"Sure." 

"Do you ever like, have an opinion? Just asking." A new track and the phone's back in the bowl. "Or do you just agree with whatever anyone says?"

"I just agree," Miguel says. "That's why I let you kick my ass - oh, no, wait- did I or did I not throw you all over the place?"

Robby grins, that flash-bright dimple smile. "Fair."

Miguel shrugs. "So your dad - he doesn't know it's Luke, but he knows it was a guy? Was LaRusso- Sam said she didn't care?"

"It's complicated," Robby says. "Luke is- well. You've met him."

"Asshole," Miguel says. He doesn’t need to know this specific guy to know the broad strokes: he’s met enough of them, been treated like shit by enough of them.

"Yeah," Robby agrees. "But - when he's paying attention to you, when he tells you you're special-"

"Centre of the universe," Miguel says, softly. "It's like you're important, for once in your life. Like you matter, because she chose you."

Robby lifts his head. "Sam?"

"Sam."

"She's special," Robby says, quietly. "I don't think I've ever had a friend like her."

"Are you-"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I like her, so - I like her a lot." Robby shakes his head. "It's complicated, because - nobody's ever liked me, the way they do. I've never - at least you have your mom, you know? I love my mom. My mom's awesome. I just-"

"She can't be the whole world."

"Yeah." Robby shrugs. "Anyway, me and Luke - I hadn't seen him for like a year. He went to school and I dropped out. But he's back in town, so - I guess he wanted to see me. So he showed up at the LaRusso's and fucked everything up, and now I'm- here."

"Sam's not mad," Miguel says. "She really does want to talk to you. I think she means it."

"Yeah," Robby says. "Maybe." He sighs. "I did a bunch of shit, when I was with him. And before him, and after him, I guess. I didn't realise how bad it would all sound together. Or how it would feel when they all, you know. Looked at me. But then my dad showed up and at least he's always looked at me like that."

"If you want - if you want me to talk to Sensei - he listens. He just takes a long time, and he's kind of mean about it. But I-" _I wouldn't mind._

"No thanks," Robby says. "If he wants to care he'll care. But - thanks."

-

Miguel texts his mom, _dinner at sensei's, coming home soon_. It's technically true, in that they are all sitting around Sensei's kitchen table, and they are eating mac and cheese. 

Sensei keeps glaring at Robby and Robby keeps smirking back. Both of them are acting like Miguel can't see them, but he can. But he knows running right at Sensei never works, and it only makes sense that Robby would be the same, so he just eats his dinner. God, he's fucking hungry. 

"You better sober up before I send you back over there," Sensei says, but he's fond, there's the smile in his eyes that Miguel has spent the better part of a year learning how to read. 

"I think Robby should come to training," Miguel says. He says it quickly, before he can think it through. "No LaRussos at Cobra Kai."

Both of them stare at him. You can see the relation when they're staring: it's the same expression of startled confusion, the idea that anyone else could have an opinion on how you're living your life. It's cool, though, he's basically immune. 

"No," Robby says.

"Oh, come on," Miguel says. "When was the last time you were at Miyagi-do? You need the practice."

"I can do it here." But Robby's eyes flick at Sensei's and Sensei's flick back, and maybe Miguel's stomach turns a little bit about it, but the rest of him is lying on Robby's twin bed, staring at that bare ceiling, so he tells that part of him to chill the fuck out.

“You’re not in school and you don't have a job,” Sensei says, thoughtfully.

“Dad,” Robby says. "You want me to go back to LaRusso Auto? They said I was welcome anytime."

“I'm just saying," Sensei says. "Think about it."

Robby flips him off.

Miguel tries to hide his grin. Maybe he doesn't do that good of a job of it, but both of them smile back, so.

"Hey," Sensei says, when Miguel's at the door and Robby's disappeared back into his tiny, bare, bedroom. "Thanks."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Miguel says.

Sensei reaches out, ruffles his hair. "Take a shower when you get home, all right? I don't need to hear it from your grandma."

-

"What did the LaRussos do?" Miguel asks. "To make you go get him?"

He's riding shotgun in the Challenger, no Robby to be seen; it's kind of nice. There's wind in his hair and Sensei is playing Ratt, Aisha wiped the floor with him and he got to spin-kick Hawk in the face. A perfect evening.

"I know it's not my business," he adds. "You can tell me to fuck off."

"Let me make one thing clear," Sensei says. "I don't need your permission to tell you to fuck off." But he doesn't say _fuck off_ and his voice doesn't change, he just rests his arm on the open window. 

Miguel waits. 

"They said they'd take care of my kid, no matter what," Sensei says, finally. "And then the _matter what_ happened." The sunlight makes him look old and tired, but not defeated, at least, like he used to look sometimes. "I know I'm one to talk. But I guess -" and now he turns and there's a little tired smile there, and it looks so much like Robby's smile Miguel turns his face into the sun and blinks it away, "- someone taught me how much honour there is in taking responsibility."

Miguel reads between the lines. _You're the first person I told_ , and _tell him I don't care what Luke said,_ and _they gave him up._ It means: _they told him to leave because of what Luke said._ And what Luke said was: _we fucked._

"I was going to get him, anyway," Sensei says. "I was just - getting brave enough to do it. And I didn't know if he would come with me." 

"Well," Miguel says, "you got him."

"Yeah," Sensei says. "And what the hell am I supposed to do about that?"


	2. Chapter 2

The world is spinning but in a good way. Miguel is made of light; if someone blew on him he could drift away. He would love to drift away. He would love to be a cloud. 

Fingers tangle around his wrist, fingerprints sinking into his pulse. "Hey, baby," Tory says. "You flyin'?" 

He turns his face to kiss her. She's so beautiful. "You're so beautiful," he says. "I love when you kick my ass."

She presses a kiss to his forehead. It feels like it's shining; the warmth ripples down his neck, all the way into his fingers and his toes. "Me too," she says. 

Robby is waving. His arms are long and his shirt is kind of tangled up around his arms and he is sitting on the couch in the corner, next to where the drinks are piled on an old card table, and his legs are draped across someone else's. "Tory," he's saying, the sound of it like a song, the shape of his mouth dark and beautiful, bruised. "Tory, hey." 

The loop of her fingers like a rope, like a lifeline; "Hey, Keene," she says, eyelids bright with glitter, lips red like a candy apple. "Fun party."

Robby laughs and reaches out for Miguel. "C'mere," he says. 

Miguel leans in. "Your eyelashes are so long," he tells Robby. 

"Thanks," Robby says, reaching up with his thumb to press at Miguel's forehead. "Lipstick," he explains, but Miguel isn't listening. 

"I'm Tory," Tory is saying, to the guy under Robby. "This is Miguel."

"We've met," the guy says, smiling an easy rich-guy, white-guy smile. "I'm Luke."

-

It was technically not Robby's idea, in that it was Tory who said, "Keene, you have a good fake, right?" 

They were sitting in Tory's car, parked up at the edge of the park with all the windows down. Robby was smoking, just a cig, passing it occasionally to Tory, their fingers touching across the middle of the console, next to Miguel's shoulder, where he could almost feel them. Maybe he should have been thinking  _ one girlfriend isn't enough?  _ but he wasn't. He was just thinking it was nice.

Robby said, "I guess." And then he said, "I don't talk to the guy anymore."

She sighed. "Figures."

Robby threw the last stub down, opened the car door to stamp it out. "You don't have one?" 

"New in town," she said. "Hawk's guy sucks, so. I'm trying to get cash under the table bartending, but - you know."

Robby frowned, and then he said, "I guess I could - if you want - but we'd have to go to a party."

"Oh, a party," Tory said, eyes bright. "Not a  _ party _ ."

The party was in Calabasas so they split an Uber, Robby in the front seat with Tory and Miguel in the back. It felt like a big deal, being there with her: like they were something outside of Cobra Kai, like there  _ was  _ something outside of Cobra Kai. If it wasn't Robby's party maybe they would have asked the others to come, to move together, like they always did, but it was so they hadn't. 

Robby kept looking back at them, his face the kind of thoughtful Sensei got when he was talking about LaRusso. He was wearing black and they were all sober. That felt weird, too. 

The house was big. Bigger, flashier even than LaRusso's or even Aisha’s; it looked like a tv mansion. Robby thanked the driver and Miguel got the door for Tory; she smiled at him, beautiful in ripped jeans and a tight tank that showed off her abs, eyelids glittering. 

"Follow my lead," Robby said, and then he looked at Miguel, right in the face, and said, "Don't take drugs from strangers unless you check with us first." 

Tory laughed. "I'll look out for him," she said. "Pinky promise." 

Robby held out his pinky and she shook. 

"Hey," Miguel said, but they ignored him. It didn't feel bad, though. It just felt like they were all there, together. Like they understood each other. "I don't even do drugs!" 

Robby was different at the party. Calmer, cooler. Less like Sensei and more - well, not really like anyone else Miguel knew. Maybe like Moon, if he was going to pick a person. Someone everyone knew, someone always laughing, never frowning. Someone with a drink for everyone and a smile for everyone, a secret one specifically for you. He looked older, maybe. Old enough to be in college.

It was an end of summer, back to school party. Everyone was dressed up, passing out drinks in actual cups not just paper.

"Don't steal anything," Robby said, under his breath, elbowing Tory in the ribs. "Okay?"

"Who, me?" But she nodded, understanding that it was his party. "Buzzkill."

He rolled his eyes and went to get them drinks. 

"I feel like a kid," Miguel confessed.

Tory looked around. There were fucking  _ sculptures _ lining the walls, and a see-through piano. "I feel like eating the rich," she said. "Same thing." 

He laughed and tangled their hands together, and then Robby came back with the drinks and a guy - a tall beanpole of a guy, like Demetri but stretched out even longer, wearing a hoodie with sloping sleepy eyes. The guy said, "Any friend of Swayze is a friend of mine," and gave Tory a phone number and a promise of a friends and family discount. 

And then - 

They were at the party. Miguel was two beers in and Tory had switched to liquor and Robby was watching both of them with his sharp clear eyes, like he watched you when you were across from him on the mat, and Miguel wanted to say,  _ hey, come back, _ thinking of how he'd been in his bedroom, lying across from Miguel, loose with the smoke and the smile. 

So he squeezed Tory's wrist and leaned across the distance between them and said, "You said not to take drugs from strangers. But you're not a stranger, right?" 

So, okay, in retrospect: none of it was Robby's idea.

-

"Why does everyone call you Swayze?" Tory asks. She has her head on Miguel's shoulder and they're swaying a little bit to whatever is playing over the hundred thousand dollar sound system - no phones in bowls here - and he has his palm hooked around her hip so he can feel her heartbeat through the bare skin at her waist.

The guy - Luke - pulls Robby's shirt back down, smoothing the fabric along his stomach. Presses a kiss - just one - to the line of Robby's neck. "It's his middle name," he says. "Shan wanted him to be a movie star." 

Robby shoves his shoulder, but gently. "Fuck you, man." He's tucked into Luke's chest, and he looks smaller than he ever has on the mat, kicking Miguel's ass.

"I think it's cool," Tory says. "Point Break is sick, they totally ripped it off to make Fast and Furious."

"Thanks," Robby says, tucking his hair behind his ear. He's flushed, but only a little. Luke's hand is on his thigh and Miguel can't stop staring at it; pale fingers, broad palm. Fingers curled around Robby’s leg like he’s leaving a print. 

_ Is this fucking homophobia _ , he is thinking, pressing a kiss to Tory's hair.  _ What the fuck, man. _

"You're losing your buzz," Tory tells him, very serious, and then, in the same breath, "I have to pee. I'll be back." 

Robby laughs. "Okay," he says. "C'mere, Diaz."

Luke looks at Miguel with clear blue eyes. Sensei-blue, Miguel thinks. Gross. "Hey," he says. "Thanks for looking out for him."

Robby sits up, anchors himself with a palm on Luke's shoulder. "Babe," he says, "Luke. I want a drink. Not this shit," gesturing to the card table beside them, "the good stuff."

"Get it yourself," Luke says, fondly, but he kisses Robby's forehead and slides out from under him. "Coming right up, princess."

Robby's eyes flash, too quickly for Miguel to decipher what's there. "Thanks."

Luke doesn't seem to be paying attention. "Of course." He's gone, disappearing into the crowd in a blur of designer jeans and hundred-dollar tees.

"Hey," Miguel says. He slides into the seat Luke left; his thigh presses against Robby's and they're looking at each other and Miguel feels like - clear, like sea-glass, like Robby can see everything about him. "That guy?" 

"It's his party," Robby says. He leans back into the couch and tips his face up to the ceiling. "Tory having a good time?"

"Yeah," Miguel says. The buzz is all the way through him, light and glowing. "What about you?" It's his turn to tuck his head onto Robby's shoulder. 

"It's all right," Robby says. A long moment while the DaBaby blares. "Better, now. You holdin' up?"

"I'm not a kid," Miguel says, but he's slumping sideways, headfirst into Robby's lap. His jeans smell like clean laundry with a little beer over it.

Robby catches his shoulders, gently, easing him down. "What did I say?" he murmurs. "No drugs from strangers."

"You're not a stranger," Miguel says. Now he is looking up at Robby, at Robby's eyes and his eyebrows and his mouth. Robby's mouth is red and his hair is tangled up. "I thought you hated that guy."

"It's complicated," Robby says. "Shh, you're wasted." 

"Ugh," Miguel says, but he can't really argue, because he is lying on a couch in Calabasas with his head in Robby Keene's lap. "What did you give us?"

"Just molly," Robby says. Now he's petting Miguel's hair, fingers carding through it. "You're kind of a baby, you know. The whole world's new for you."

"Still kick your ass on the mat," Miguel says.

"Only when you cheat," Robby says, but mildly. His fingers are gentle, cool. "Hey, Tory."

There's the thump of Tory next to them, hauling Miguel's legs up and over her lap. "Hey, boys." She winks at Miguel, but he can see the little bit of blur in her eyes, the glass that's settling like it does when she's over the edge of too much to drink. "Having fun?"

"The most." That's Robby, dry as dust. "Your boyfriend-"

"Yeah," she says. "He's pretty, right?" 

Miguel is wasted, but he thinks: sometimes Tory is smarter than people think she is. If you don't like her it's because she doesn't want you to. He blinks up at Robby. "Did you ever bring Sam here?"

Tory stills. Robby slows his hand, curling it around the line of Miguel's jaw. "No. It's not really - no." 

"Her dad would kill you," Miguel says. 

"That too." 

And then Tory and Robby are talking about something over the top of Miguel's head, but he's floating, a little bit, so he closes his eyes and tucks his face into Robby's shirt while Robby draws little circles on the top of his shoulders.  _ You're a good babysitter, _ he thinks, but doesn't say. 

After a little while there's a new voice, a low masculine one, and Robby is tipping a little cool water into Miguel's mouth, which is the nicest thing he's ever experienced in his entire life, and he's laughing but not in a mean way, in a nice warm way that coils all through Miguel's belly and makes him smile, too.

"Hey," Robby says, gently. Now his palm is on Miguel's face. "Hey, killer. You wanna go home?" 

"It's okay," Miguel says, struggling upright. "I'm good. Where's Tory?" 

"She went to dance. She'll be back." 

"Okay," Miguel says. Now he's sitting back up it's easier to pitch himself sideways, shoulder against Robby, who catches him and holds him steady. "You can go too, if you want."

Robby's hair is falling into his eyes. "Nah," he says. "It's fine. You feeling good?" 

"Yeah," Miguel says. And he is. "Sorry I'm not being good at this party."

"No," Robby says, so earnest it startles Miguel. "You're great." 

"Cute," Luke says. "Swayze's the best babysitter." Miguel blinks and sees him: leaning on the arm of the couch on the other side of Robby, drinking out of a solo cup. His stupid jaw is so sharp. He looks like the kind of guy who'd beat Miguel up if they were alone and nobody was there to see. He thinks Luke knows it too. 

Not that Miguel gets beat up, these days. 

"It's nice to have someone who isn't over everything," Robby says. His hand tangles in the back of Miguel's shirt, where nobody can see it, but Miguel can feel it. 

"Hey, babe," Luke says, leaning down, "I didn't mean it like that."

And then they are kissing, right next to Miguel; a long kiss, Luke's hand curled around the back of Robby's neck, fingers tangled in Robby's hair. 

Maybe Miguel shouldn't be looking. Probably. 

But there's Robby's hair curling around his ear, and Robby's eyelashes flickering shut, and Luke biting Robby's lip, the soft wet sound of it enormous. The light makes Luke's hair even blonder, like straw, or bananas, or bananas made of straw. Robby moans, just a little, a tiny sound, and then breaks the kiss.

"Hey," Robby says, voice rough, breath heavy. "I'm babysitting."

"Yeah, yeah," Luke says. His forehead drops against Robby's. "I think Diaz can handle himself. What do you think, Diaz?"

"No," Robby says, firmly. "Remember the first time you gave me shit? You said, always stick around. So."

"That's what I said to get in your pants," Luke says, eyes bright. He takes a deep swallow and hands the cup to Robby. "Can never win with you."

"Sure," Robby says, taking his own drink, handing the cup back. 

And then Tory is back, eyeliner smudged, hair wild, throwing her arm around Luke's shoulder and saying, "great party, man, thank you," and Robby's hand is pressed flat against the small of Miguel's back, tight, and Miguel can feel the live wire running through him, the vibrations of the beginning of a fight, when you're cornered and you need to get out. 

So Miguel says, "Maybe we should go home."

Sensei is asleep on the couch when they get in, surrounded by empty cans and the flickering tv. Robby sighs and steps around them, turns the tv off at the wall. His hand hovers over Sensei's shoulder, like maybe he's going to touch him, but he doesn't. 

Miguel sighs into Tory's hair. The wall hit him in the car back and now he's just draped over Tory's shoulders like a sack. Her hair smells mostly like beer, now. He still loves being around her. It's nice. 

"You guys can take my bed," Robby says. "I'll sleep in my dad's." 

"You're gonna have to help me get him in," Tory says. "You're not that much of a lightweight, lightweight."

Robby's warm against Miguel's other side and then they are stumbling through into Robby's tiny room, where the air is sticky and dark. At least Robby's bed is soft, Miguel thinks, leaning backwards. "Still smells like weed," he tells Robby.

"Great job, detective," Robby says, but fondly, and then he's kneeling down to take Miguel's shoes off, easy and confident.

"Water," Tory says, pressing a kiss to Miguel's forehead. "Be right back." 

"S'not fair," Miguel says. "How come you're so good at this?"

"Big head start," Robby says. "Don't worry, you'll catch up." 

"Hey," Miguel says. "Can you just - come here?" 

"What?" Robby's eyes, gleaming. 

Miguel is stuck in his t-shirt and his jeans in Robby Keene's bed. And it's a school night. "I'm glad you came back with us."

"Yeah," Robby says, one hand resting flat on Miguel's shin. "Me too.”

"I didn't think I'd like you," Miguel says, swaying a little bit. "But I think you like me, too."

Robby laughs, a tiny one, the white curve of his teeth pressing into his lower lip. "Diaz."

"Keene," Miguel counters. 

Robby curls his hand around Miguel's calf. Even through the denim, it feels - 

"Go to sleep,  _ Miguel _ ."

"Okay," Miguel says, and then he does. 

-

Sharks have nothing on LaRussos, Miguel decides, staring at his solution of HCl while Sam's eyes bore into the back of his neck. He's both hungover and feeling like he's about to get eaten and it's not his favourite feeling ever. 

He gives up after the longest fifteen minutes of his life. "Okay, what?" 

"Finally," she says, with absolutely no shame, sliding onto the stool next to him. "You're doing that wrong, by the way."

"Thanks," he says. 

She leans over to look at his notes. "Yeah, you did the wrong math - here." Her pencil scribbles out his titration equation, replacing it with something that looks actually doable. 

"That's why you've been glaring all period? Because I suck at math?" 

"Nobody sucks at math," Sam says, with the confidence of a person who has had all the extra help anyone could ever need, and has never been shamed for asking for it, "you just haven't done enough of it." And then, smoothing down the floral ruffles on her shirt, "are you okay?" 

"Wait, what?" 

"You look -" she shakes her head. "I know we're not, you know,"  _ even friends _ , he thinks, "but that doesn't mean I don't care about you."

_ Could have fooled me,  _ he thinks, but he's hungover and his head hurts and Yaya raised her eyebrows when he came in to grab a bowl of dry cereal, so that's gonna be fun too. He says, "You too." Because that is true. 

"Miguel," she says, resting her hand on his forearm, "you look like ass."

"Tell your boyfriend," he says, before he thinks better of it. 

She blinks. "Robby? Robby wouldn't - Robby doesn't even drink, Miguel."

"Okay," Miguel says. "We're definitely not talking about the same person."

"Okay," Sam says. "This is bullshit. I'm coming over, and you're going to have my back. Tonight?" 

Maybe he's vulnerable, maybe it's just the hangover, maybe it's that you're always weird about your first kiss. Maybe it's that he tangled his hand in Robby's shirt and wanted to pull him away. "Training runs long tonight."

"Okay, tomorrow." 

He sighs. Being with Sam always makes him feel like he’s reckless, impatient, too much. But Robby said he missed her, and Miguel knows what that feels like, at least. “Okay.”

\- 

Tory drives them to Cobra Kai after school. She cut first and second so she's wearing fresh clothes and her hair looks clean: Miguel has never been so jealous of anyone in his life. 

"Stop smelling my hair," she says, but she's grinning while she does. 

Miguel closes his eyes. It's just the two of them in the car, where they haven't been all day. "I have to tell you something."

"You and Keene?" 

"What? No. I talked to Sam today and she's coming over tomorrow to talk to Robby. Wait, what?" 

Tory pulls over. They're one strip mall too early and this one really sucks. Half the windows are empty and there are needles on the ground. 

"Tory?" 

It's starting to get grey outside, clouds knitting together. 

"I just," Tory says, and she's talking slowly, which she normally doesn't do, pausing like she's thinking hard, trying to temper the words. "I like him, okay? I think he's fun, and funny, and I appreciate what he did for me. But he really hates his dad, and his dad really loves you."

It makes sense. That's the bad part. 

Last week Keene hated Miguel. Last week Miguel hated Keene. 

Miguel is good at getting over shit like that but Miyagi-do or not Robert Swayze Keene is Sensei's kid and Sensei is still mad at Daniel LaRusso for a 35 year old crane kick. 

"I could be wrong," she says, quietly, and now her hand is on the edge of Miguel's seat, palm up. "I just. You don't think like that. It's good that you don't."

He feels - ice cold, exhausted. He looks down at her hands, the callous on the palms from all the fists, the red in her knuckles that doesn't fade. He rests his fingertips on her lifeline. "Is this because of last night?" 

She bites her lip. "I don't know. Maybe."

"I thought you had fun."

"I did. It was cool. It just -" she shakes her head. "That guy, his dealer? He was fucked, I don’t know. Robby was different."

"So were you," Miguel says, gently. He lets his hand flatten against hers, tangling their fingers together. 

She sighs. "Maybe that's it," she says. "Maybe I just - don't like a lot of shit about me."

He squeezes their hands together. "I like pretty much everything about you. If it helps."

She lifts her head and leans over to kiss him. "It does."

Robby's on the stoop, eating corner store jerky from the bag, hair tied into a neat loop at the nape of his neck. He's wearing basketball shorts and a Foreigner t-shirt that Miguel recognises from Sensei spilling beer all over it. He waves, just once. 

Tory parks in a screech of rubber, throwing them both hard around the corner. 

"Jesus," Miguel says, "save it for the mat."

She runs her fingers through her hair, tosses it like a slow-mo movie shot. "Gotta get that edge on." She flashes him a grin, though, before she slides out of the car and waves back to Robby. "Hey, Swayze. Finally slumming it with us lesser beings?"

"Oh," he says, faking surprise, "you go here? My mistake, I was just on my way out." 

She flips him off. "Miguel, you're gonna have to be  _ on  _ Hawk. You know he gets fucking crazy when shit's not exactly how he likes." And then she looks between the two of them. "I'll go inside and help with setup."

It takes Miguel a minute longer to get out of the car, shaking his arms and legs out as he goes.

Robby's watching him: dark eyes, careful. He remembers Robby in the dark light of the party, the way Robby's fingers tangled in his hair. The way it felt like - 

"Hey," he says. He feels the smile crack at the corners of his mouth. 

"Hey," Robby says. "My dad said it was this or get a job, so." The smile is quiet around his lips, too. 

Miguel drops to the ground next to him, bumping their shoulders together. He rests his elbows on his knees. "Thanks for- you know. Babysitting."

"Yeah," Robby says. "You too." 

"I didn't do anything," Miguel says. "I just got wasted and you carried me home."

Robby grins at that, a little strand of hair falling out of the ponytail to frame his cheek. "Okay, Diaz."

"Okay, Keene," Miguel says. And then, because they are in the real world, now, not just the corner of Robby's bedroom with the weed in it, the safest place in the world: "Hawk's gonna be pissed. I'll do my best to shut him down, but - just ignore him. Me and Sensei - we won't let him do anything."

"You forget that I can fight you to a standstill?"

"Whatever, Miyagi-do," Miguel says. He thinks, suddenly, that he'd like to put his head on Robby's shoulder. It would be nice if Robby would stroke his hair again. "Thanks for coming." 

"Sure." 

In the morning it was just the two of them. Tory had bailed when the sun was coming up, kissing Miguel hard enough to leave him breathless and pressing her lips to the corner of Robby's, whispering something Miguel couldn't hear. Robby sat down next to Miguel, looking at him with his startling dark eyes; Miguel yawned and went back to sleep. When he woke up Robby was there, pulling a shirt over his head, shaking Miguel's shoulder and whispering,  _ be quiet or dad'll hear you.  _

It felt weird to leave him. Bad, almost. Like it would have been bad to leave him at the party. 

Sensei's in the back room. He doesn't say much when they come in. He just smiles - a smile that reaches all the way to his eyes, crinkling around the edges. Miguel feels his stomach turn, but just a little bit. When he looks back at Robby Robby is biting his lip, looking down at the mats. "Told you I wouldn't bolt."

Sensei says, "Thank you." 

Robby smiles. Just a tiny smile, but - 

Maybe Miguel is smiling, too.

-

It's not that it's  _ bad _ . It's not like Miguel is  _ upset. _ He's just - it was a long night, last night, and now Hawk's bristling, and all of his guys too, because Robby is Miyagi-do even if he's not even here to train, just to do paperwork and hang out, and they take this shit too seriously. Not that Miguel doesn't take it seriously. Miguel takes it seriously; of course he does. Karate changed his life. 

But Hawk's being fucking crazy, all up in Robby's face, and when Robby ignores him he does this thing with his face - this smooth, calm, icy mask - that reminds Miguel of how Robby was at the party, because he was funny and smooth but it was just the same: it didn't go anywhere real. It makes Miguel wonder how much of the time Robby's been - like that. 

It makes him wonder if he was only real with Sam. 

It makes him think - well. Tory knows this shit better than he does. Tory's the one who gets it.

Miguel's just the fucking nice guy who thinks he can date the rich girl and not get his heart broken. 

What Miguel is saying, is that he is out of it in practice. He's got a thousand things in his head and he agrees to the demo with Hawk before he's really thought it through, Robby leaning against the back wall of the dojo while Tory yells  _ get him.  _

And then:

Hawk kicks him in the head and it's - blood everywhere. 

"Shit," Hawk says, staring down at him. "Why the fuck didn't you block?"

"It's fine," Miguel says. "Just my nose." 

But god, that's a lot of blood.

-

  
  


Robby's in the back room, with the first aid kit, and Sensei's there too, holding Miguel's chin in his hands, tilting his head forward. 

"What the fuck are you  _ doing _ ," Robby hisses, pacing back and forth across the linoleum floor. "You know, in Miyagi-do, we don't practice full sparring unless we're already fully -"

"You're not in Miyagi-do," Sensei says, sharply. "If you want to head back there, be my guest."

Miguel can't talk, because of how Sensei's holding his jaw, but even if he could he's not sure exactly what he would say. This is between Sensei and Robby, and even though Robby and Miguel are good now, better than they've ever been, that doesn't exactly mean there's nothing there. They still want what the other has: temporary truces are well and good but here they are, and that means it's not really Miguel who can intervene. 

So he swallows the copper taste of his own blood - familiar, way better than when it was Kyler and those fucking guys kicking his head in - and holds still. 

"Maybe I will," Robby says, fists clenched at his sides. The shirt makes him look like a kid, like he's playing dress up. "I never asked to be in your little strip mall karate school. You're the one who begged me to see how good it was. How you were making something of yourself."

Sensei closes his eyes, the kind of stillness that Miguel knows comes before he says something he'll regret. 

Miguel raises his hands, closing them around Sensei's wrists.  _ Please. _

Sensei opens his eyes. Looks at Miguel and sighs. "Robby," he says. "Miguel hasn't missed that block in six months."

And- holy shit, oh no. 

It is  _ not _ supposed to go like this. 

Miguel yanks his head back. "It's my fault," he says, through the horrible iron tang. "I was out late last night, just - it was all me, okay?" Oh, shit, that hurts.

"Don't be an idiot," Sensei says, roughly, but with that note in his voice he only uses on Miguel. "Come here, Christ." He grabs Miguel's chin with one hand and is back with the gauze. That does hurt less, but- 

"What are you implying, Dad?" Robby takes one step forward, then another. Eyes fierce, on fire. "Spit it out. It's not like you to  _ be a pussy. _ "

Sensei's shoulders stiffen. He doesn't let go of Miguel. "I'm saying," he says, icy, "there's one kid in this room with a history of fucking up late at night."

Robby doesn't miss a beat. "There's one washed up over-the-hill loser halfway through his midlife crisis with a studio full of psychopaths."

"Robby," Sensei says. 

"Fuck you," Robby says. "You think - you think I'm just here to fuck up your precious Miguel? That's it?"

Sensei sighs. "I'm not saying that," he says. "I'm just saying. It's happened before, hasn't it?" 

Miguel would love to be literally anywhere else. Like, a hole in the ground? Fantastic. Dracula's lair? Sign him up. Swamp witch ready to boil his bones for soup? Sure, let's go. 

And then he realizes: it's Wednesday. Delivery Wednesday, like delivery Sunday. 

Of course Sensei knows something's fucked. 

"Kid," Sensei is saying to Robby, the kind of gentle he gets when he's explaining something that's fucking stupid like how you should never recycle because it's a Russian plot against America, "it makes sense, okay? I've been a shitty fucking dad to you. And you come here and it looks like - well. It looks like something you never had and you want to fuck it up."

Robby groans and buries his face in his hands. "I should have known you'd be a fucking freak about this. I thought, oh, maybe he's changed, but here it is! Your only kid's a fuckin' queer, better make sure you get a new one."

Miguel's nose hurts. 

"What?" Sensei says, spluttering. His hands are shaking. He's looking at Miguel and at Robby and back again. "No. That's not - besides, you and LaRusso's kid. That's bisexual."

Miguel yanks his head back, takes the gauze from Sensei's hand and holds it to his nose. "Sensei," he says. "Please stop."

"What?" Sensei says. 

"No," Robby says, at the same time, ice cold. "I want to hear it. Tell me about sexuality, Dad, you been online? Googling 'teenager gets double teamed by thick cock'?" 

"Robby," Miguel says. 

"Shut up, Diaz," Robby says. "Shoulda known, Dad, the way you talk about Mr LaRusso? Maybe you're the one who wants to get a cock-" 

Sensei takes one step forward, towards Robby, and then he stops. "I'm not doing this with you," he says. "This is not what's happening."

Robby tilts his head to the side. "Not the first time I've heard that," he says. "You gonna fuck off now? I'm sure your karate club's used to it." His mouth is doing that mean thing it does. It's as much Robby as the boy in the bedroom, Miguel knows, but that doesn't make it feel less wrong, less like the blood dripping down the back of his throat. 

"No," Sensei says. "I love you. I don't care - whatever this is. I'm gonna say the wrong thing, you know that, I know that. I love you, that's the thing that matters."

Robby rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

"I am  _ responsible for you, _ " Sensei says. "Which means I don't let you get away with shit, unlike your mom, and I don't - fuck. I don't let you hurt other people just because I hurt you. Okay?" 

"Ah," Robby says. "There it is. See that, Diaz?" 

Miguel thinks possibly his eyes are too wide right now, but also, what the fuck is he supposed to do? He can't  _ take a side _ here, and if he does take a side it has to be Sensei's, but - "It wasn't his fault, Sensei," he says. "He didn't do anything. We were just hanging out."

"Just hanging out," Sensei says. He says it like - something gross. Like when he's talking about EDM or Kanye West or the Doja Cat Miguel was playing on his phone one time, when it was just him and Hawk in the studio and Sensei walked in. "What kind of drugs were you hanging out with?" 

"Oh, come on," Robby says. "The weed? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'm just saying," Sensei says. "He didn't do that before you showed up."

Robby groans and runs his fingers through his hair. "He didn't kick people in the head before you showed up," he says. "I mean, I'm assuming. Did you kick people in the head before karate psycho school?"

"No," Miguel says, and then he says, "Sorry, Sensei."

"Okay," Sensei says. He takes one step, then another, and he's right up against Robby and Robby isn't giving an inch, chin firm, stupid hair a little cloud around his head. "Robby. I don't care that you're gay, or queer, or a fairy, or what the fuck ever words kids are using now. You're my kid. You're here. I'm happy you're here."

"You fucking drink yourself to sleep every night," Robby says. "I sincerely fucking doubt that."

Sensei doesn't flinch but the hit crosses his face. "You know what," he says, "LaRusso and I talked about this. He said,  _ don't lose your shit, Johnny, he's a kid _ . You think he didn't tell me about you and his kid? He said,  _ I don't think he's ever known how to belong somewhere. _ And that's my fault. I get that. But don't you fucking  _ dare _ take it out on Miguel."

Robby is white. Sheet-white, bone-white. "Fuck you,  _ Dad _ ," he says, and then - 

And then he's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Tory keeps touching Miguel's nose.

"Stop it," he says. It fucking hurts. 

"I'm just looking," she says, and then, "It's kind of sexy, you know?" 

"Hawk kicking me in the face?" 

"Shut up," she says. Leans in, presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. "You know what I mean."

They're sitting on the floor, stretching. Sensei left a little after Robby did, finished taping up Miguel's nose and told him to lead the cool down before fucking off in a screech of rubber, exhaust, and fragile masculinity. 

Miguel leans into his right hamstring. Ugh, that fucker is tight. 

"Fuck," he says. 

Tory rests her chin on her hand. Her braid is coming apart a little at the crown of her head, tendrils curling around her face. "Yeah?" 

"I don't think you were right," he says. "About Robby. I think - maybe a little. But-" He wouldn't have run out if what Sensei said didn't matter. That's not Robby's style; he makes you leave. He isn't the one who goes. 

"Okay," Tory says. Her eyes rest quietly on his face. "What do you want to do?" 

He looks at her and she looks at him. 

"Okay," she says. "If you want to."

"Hawk," Miguel says. He tosses him the keys and bows to the mat. "Close up."

Hawk says, "Going after Keene?" 

"That's Sensei's kid, man," Miguel says. "Show some respect."

-

Calabasas, baby. 

It looks different in the sunlight. 

"You wanna-" Miguel starts, but Tory shakes her head. 

"All you, babe. Besides, if I don't stay with the car, you know I'm coming back to a tow."

It's true. It's Calabasas. 

So Miguel gets out of the car, feeling basically homeless in his gi pants and the t shirt he wore to school because there was too much blood on the top of his gi. There's a gate but the gate has an intercom and fuck that shit: easy enough to get up and over, feet slamming down into the manicured lawn and the probably imported gravel. 

Each step up the drive he thinks: God, you're a fucking idiot. He's gonna tell you to get out. He's gonna tell you he never liked you and you were a two pump chump for thinking it for a second. 

Cobra Kai never dies. Strike hard, strike first. No mercy. Not even on yourself. 

He knocks once, then again, and then he sees the doorbell, so he presses that. 

Luke answers the door. He's wearing a white shirt, unbuttoned to the chest. He looks like someone carved him out of fucking marble. "Sorry, not interested," he says. "Also, buddy, you should probably put a band aid on that nose."

Miguel steps forward. Gets his foot between the door and the jamb. Luke's big but Sensei is big too and Miguel can throw him. "Tell Robby I want to see him."

"Hey, man," Luke says, narrowing his eyes. There's a mark on his neck, just one, at the base of his throat. "If he wanted to see you you'd be seeing him."

"I'm not leaving until he says it to my face," Miguel says. This is what Cobras do: you say shit and you know you can back it up. 

"Luke, it's okay." Robby's barefoot, a hoodie with Stanford across the chest pulled over his tousled hair. His eyes are red but he's got the shutters down on his face, the cool fuck off mask. 

"Baby," Luke says, turning to him. "I don't want anyone coming in here and upsetting you, all right?" 

Robby sighs, steps just a little out of his way. "Diaz, what do you want?" 

" _ Robby _ ," Miguel says. "Is this really where you want to be?" 

"Yeah, I want to be here. Go home, Miguel." Robby's jaw is set. He's doing that thing with his face: fuck off, get out. 

"And leave you with this guy?" It feels stupid, saying it: Robby's tough as nails, tougher than Miguel by a long shot, and Miguel's pretty tough. He looks past Robby and Luke, into the white marble entrance. Rich people shit, he thinks, Tory's voice warm in the back of his mind. Not Robby shit. 

"I don't know who you think you are," Luke starts, stepping towards Miguel. He looks like every fucking white guy in the history of fucking California. 

Robby says, "Hey, it's fine," and steps in between them, curling one hand around Luke's bicep. Miguel's never seen him like this, before - soft, conciliatory, small. Maybe this is what he's like at Miyagi-do. Maybe that's what they teach there. 

Maybe not, though. 

"I'm not your property," Robby says, eyes even, voice even. "You don't get to score brownie points with my dad on me."

"Robby," Miguel says, "we're  _ friends _ ." His voice feels thin, fragile. Like he's begging. 

"Are we? You heard your Sensei. I'm just fucking with you, like I fuck with everyone."

"Hey," Luke says. He settles his hand on Robby's hip, ignoring Robby's tiny flinch. "Settle down, tiger."

Robby's eyes flash. He doesn't say anything, doesn't pull away.

"You know he's full of shit," Miguel says. "You know - man, come on, you know everything he says is bullshit. You know everything that matters about him is what he does. I've only known him for like a year, you have  _ seventeen  _ on me, you're not -"

"Fuck you," Robby says, and then he does shake off Luke's hand and step forward, chin straight, hands balled into fists at his side. And Miguel thinks:  _ yes, god, please. _ They both know how to do that. They're both  _ good _ at that.

Hook kick to the thigh, quick punch to the throat. They'd be in business. They'd be speaking the same language. Robby would get his hands around his throat.

They've never fought real down in the dirt Cobra-style. Only ever Miyagi-do, tournament rules, back off after the hit, keep it PG for the parents in the crowd.

Robby's not  _ made _ for that shit, and both of them know it; anyone who's ever met Robby knows it. Robby, like Sensei, is just chafing to get off the damn leash.

But Robby just simmers. "You're not listening," he says. "I'm telling you. He's right. Are you stupid? You must be, to fucking follow him around. And now you're following me around.  _ Get out. _ " 

Miguel takes one breath, then another, and then he thinks about Sensei passed out drunk on the floor, and he thinks about Robby Keene fighting through the fucked up shoulder Hawk set him up with, anything to make LaRusso look at him, and he thinks - the fucking  _ cement mixer,  _ the way he'd walk through broken glass, if Sensei asked.

"I think," he says, "if you wanted to hurt me, you'd be better at it."

Robby shakes his head. "Go back to my dad," he says. "You deserve each other." He is standing on the threshold: the cool light comes from behind him, and Luke just that half-step there, huge and hovering. 

They both know, one wrong move, and it's a fight. It's the truth of things between them, always, at every moment, even while things have been - different, good, special, better,  _ new _ \- the fundamental nature of  _ Robby and Miguel  _ is primed to erupt.

"I'm not gonna break your fucking nose," Robby says. "Go home."

"You can do it," Miguel says. "I bet that would piss Sensei off. That would really fucking do it. I'm his favourite, right?"

Robby's whole body ripples, that quiet elemental rage that Miguel knows only because he wakes up with it every fucking day, because that's what makes him  _ Cobra Kai _ , that's what comes out and makes him the best. 

Miguel settles back into the stance. Feels his weight redistribute, feels himself prepare to take the hit. 

"No," Robby says, dragging in air. It looks like he's fighting, holding himself still. Like treading water, all that effort just to stand still. "No."

Miguel shakes his head. "Robby-"

"He asked you to leave," Luke says, quietly. One step forward, then another, and this time Robby is just - letting him, just falling back behind him, letting someone else fight his battles - 

_ nobody fought your battles for you, _ Miguel thinks, until that fucking night in the strip mall lot - 

"Okay," Miguel says. The adrenaline bleeds out of his limbs and he is just tired and sore and alone. "Okay." 

"Yeah," Luke says. "I'll open the gate for you."

Tory's in the car, staring at her phone. She lifts her head at the sound of his feet, and sees that he's alone. "Shit."

"Yeah," he says. "I guess I tried, right?" 

"Yeah." She rakes her fingers through her hair. "Fuck."

A hand falls on his shoulder, heavy. 

He turns, and - 

"Hey," Luke says. "Diaz, right? I get that you care about him, and that's sweet, but I can take it from here."

Miguel could break his wrist. He could. 

"You know," he says, "it's obvious who you are. Robby knows it. I wish I was gonna be there to see him tell you."

A slow, awful smile. "He's not gonna let you fuck him," Luke says. "And I promise, even if he did, he'd be thinking of me."

Sensei taught him how to handle situations like this. Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy. 

"I hope he breaks your nose," Miguel says, and he gets in Tory’s piece of shit Camry and shuts the door so hard that he’s worried for a second something might come off.

"Fuck you," Tory yells. They drive away. 

-

Miguel's phone rings when they're halfway back to Reseda. 

Tory's playing Nirvana on the speakers, windows down and her hair tangled around her face. They're passing through miles of strip mall: that's the real LA. 

He checks the screen.  _ Sam _ , followed by the octopus emoji. Fuck. 

"Sorry, Tory, I gotta-" The sound of Kurt Cobain flattens out into one sharp, dead, point. "Sam?" 

Tory's mouth firms itself into an angry line. "Really?" 

He covers his phone with his hand, like they do on tv. "She wouldn't call." 

"Whatever," Tory mutters, fingers tightening on the wheel. 

He gets it, though, because he always got picked last for everything, and that sucked. 

But. 

"Oh my god," Sam says, and her voice is cracking, breaking at the edges. "I've tried like four times. Robby won't pick up. I keep calling but I think he blocked my number, and my dad can't get him either, and-"

"Breathe," Miguel says. His heart's racing, of course it is. It's Sam, and she's freaking out. Once at a party at the end of summer she got close to him, and she sounded like this, like there was something else going on in her voice, but then they walked away from each other. It's been at the bottom of his stomach since then, like the grit at the bottom of the oyster: that's how you get a pearl. "LaRusso, take a breath."

"Your sensei's at my house," Sam says, and then she sighs and says, "I mean. Robby's dad. Robby's dad is here."

“What the fuck,” Miguel says.

Tory jerks around, and the car swerves too.

“Tory!”

“Sorry, sorry.” She curls her fingers back around the wheel. "You can't just-"

"You're with- okay. I can call back later."

"No, you can't, Sensei hates your dad! What the fuck's he doing there?" Sensei goes fucking apeshit around LaRusso, and the reverse is true; everyone knows it. It's the easiest thing to throw in the world, of course Robby went for it.

"I don't  _ know _ ," Sam says. "But Robby's gone and he thinks my dad did it, or like, maybe I did it? Or something? Can you just  _ get here _ , please."

"I'm with Tory," Miguel says.  _ We're a package deal.  _

A deep breath, and then the sound of something crashing in the background. "Okay," Sam says. "Whatever. Just get here."

-

  
  


She meets them at the door. Tory's hanging on Miguel's shoulder, full raised by wolves bitch face on, and honestly - it's kind of nice. Like, if anyone's going to have your back, it's not exactly  _ sobering _ but it's like - 

Well, it's like this: when Miguel was with Sam, any time he did anything she said,  _ are you sure _ , and now, he's with Tory, and he's the one saying,  _ whoa slow down _ , and it feels - 

Anyway.

Sam's at the door. Her hair is in a braid and she's wearing a sundress and the bottom of her lip is torn, like it gets when she's worried about a test or her grandma. "My mom's at work," she says. "My dad said not to call her, so -"

Miguel doesn't need to turn to see Tory rolling her eyes. "Of course," she says, "why would we ever not do what Daddy says?"

"Okay," Sam says, "I really don't think you need to be here."

"Well," Tory says, hooking her chin over Miguel's shoulder, "I'm here, so."

"Tory," Miguel says. "Can you please-"

The tiniest flinch. He wouldn't notice it if he wasn't looking for it, but he is, so he reaches his hand back and tangles their fingers together. He can feel Sam's eyes on them, the cool weight of her stare. 

"Fine," Tory says, gritting it out. "It's your lucky day, princess."

It's Sam's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever makes you feel good." She switches that laser-focus gaze to Miguel. "Robby won't pick up. Do you know-"

"He's safe," Miguel says. There isn't anything else to say. "It wasn't that bad of a fight. I don't know." 

"Okay," she says. "This way."

He's never actually been in the house. It's nice, of course. All these houses are nice. It looks nicer in person than it did from the slivers of Sam's FaceTimes; honestly it doesn't look so much nice as expensive, but what does Miguel know? Nothing, clearly. 

Tory squeezes his hand and he squeezes back.

"Please don't steal anything," Sam says. God, of course she couldn't resist. 

Tory snorts. "Please," she says. "You'd be the first person to call the cops on me. I'm not stupid." 

They're starting to see the trail of Sensei-debris - the coffee table on its side, the overturned flowers, a couple crumpled up receipts from the place he gets all the training equipment because he never throws them out, just shoves them into his pockets. The abandoned food on the table, one smashed plate on the carpet. 

Miguel's heart is picking up. 

Sam's little brother is on the couch, on his PS Vita. "It was cool," he says, without looking up. "Dad kicked him into the wall."

"Anthony," Sam says, thin and thready, "can you shut the  _ fuck up _ ." 

And then he can see them. Two shapes, sitting on the edge of the pool, shoulders hunched. He knows the shape of those shoulders, he knows the smell that comes with that particular kind of defeat. 

Miguel probably shouldn't be running but fuck that, Sensei's carried him through shit more times than he cares to remember. 

"Sensei?"

They look up, both of them. Sensei's right eye is swelling and Mr. LaRusso's lip is bloody, but they aren't fighting, just sitting. Sensei’s feet are in the pool. Mr LaRusso has a glass in his hand. He wouldn’t have a glass in his hand if he thought Sensei was going to break it over his head, right? 

"It's okay, Miguel," Mr LaRusso says. He has one hand on Sensei's shoulder, and Sensei is letting him. "We're just having a drink, talking about parenting."

"Sit down," Sensei says, waving at Miguel and Tory. "LaRusso, you got sodas?" His eyes are red and he looks tired, but his voice isn't fraying. He's calm.

LaRusso rolls his eyes. "Not your waiter, Johnny." He doesn't look old. He looks - spry, bright. Different when he's not on the opposite side of the tournament. Now he's just a guy in joggers and a hoodie, with his feet in the pool.

Sensei reaches down and smacks a wave along their feet. "Yeah, yeah, Danielle."

"See," Sam hisses. Her breath is hot against Miguel's ear. 

Tory smirks, settling into a deck chair. "I could go for a Coke." 

"Get it yourself," Sam bites. 

Miguel sits cross legged behind Mr LaRusso and Sensei. "Hey," he says. "You been drinking, Sensei?" 

LaRusso and Sensei look at each other and then they are laughing. Not joyful but the kind of laugh of old men who drink together, watching the night fade in each other's familiar company. 

"When hasn't he?" Mr LaRusso asks. 

"Great," Sam says. "Awesome." She sits down next to Miguel. "I'm glad you two are solving problems responsibly, like adults." 

Sensei blows a raspberry at her. It's so loud they all freeze for a moment, even Sensei.

"Hey," Mr LaRusso says. "Be polite."

Sensei sighs. "Thanks for coming, Diaz." He looks behind Miguel and raises his voice. "You too, Nichols."

"Anytime, Sensei," Tory yells. 

"You, uh," Miguel says. He runs his fingers through his hair and looks at Sam; she jerks her chin towards Sensei and Mr LaRusso. "Having a good night?"

"It's all right," Mr LaRusso says. "We had a little trouble when Johnny here," and he squeezes Sensei's shoulder, familiar, like they're friends or something, like he didn't  _ steal Sensei's girlfriend _ , "thought Robby might be here. You know Robby, right?"

_ Yeah, when I kicked him in the dislocated shoulder and your daughter dumped me. _

Sam looks at him and he knows she's thinking the same. Maybe not in the same words.

"He's not," Sensei says. "Daniel here talked me down. Reminded me kids are kids, right, Diaz? Sometimes you just gotta-" 

_ Run away, _ Miguel hears. And then the blood is rushing in his ears, his heart pounding like it was that night Sensei threw him in the pool.

"You should be -" Miguel swallows, shakes his head. "Do you know where Robby is?" 

"Shit, you know? I thought -" Sensei looks down. "I thought he'd be here. I didn't know where else to go."

Suddenly Miguel is done with it. The self pity, the wallowing; it used to not matter, but now it does. "Robby's boyfriend looks exactly like you," Miguel says. "He's a piece of shit, I'm pretty sure he's dealing, but he's rich and he looks like you."

Sensei reels, like a crane kick. "What? I thought -" 

"He didn't just live with you for fun!" Maybe Miguel's shouting, maybe he isn't, who can tell. "Sensei, he came to live with you because he thought he sucked enough to deserve it. And you let him think that."

Mr LaRusso opens his mouth and Miguel wheels, leaps to his feet like it's a fight. Maybe it is. "And you let him leave! It doesn't matter what he did, or what that guy said. You weren't supposed to let him leave." 

Sensei is getting up, too. Slower, with the booze, with the fight. "Hey," he says. "Hey, Miguel." 

One step, then another; Miguel can see it coming but not enough to move out of the way. Sensei's arms wrap around him, huge, enormous. "Hey."

"He's a kid," Miguel says, into Sensei's shoulder. He can feel his fingers digging into his palms, can feel the fists at his sides, can feel himself shaking. "All of you were supposed to take care of him. And none of you wanted him! Nobody except Sam."

The soft sound of Sensei's breath into his hair, the smell of the beer and the chlorine and Sensei's hands tangled up in Miguel's t-shirt. "It's okay, Miguel," Sensei says. "Where is he?"

"I can't  _ fucking  _ tell you," Miguel says, and now he might be sobbing, which is  _ fucking stupid _ because he doesn't even like Robby Keene all that much, right? "Because he doesn't want to leave and he doesn't think anyone else cares about him and you're fucking - you're drunk here, so maybe he's right!"

Sensei is stronger, bigger, tougher than Miguel in every way, but he forgets that he trained Miguel so Miguel knows, better than anyone, how to break the hold, detangle their bodies,  _ get away. _

"Tory," he says, breathing harsh, up in fucking Encino where the air’s all too good. "We gotta go."

Tory sighs. “Yeah,” she says. “Figures.”

-

Tory drives him home in silence, not even 90's grunge on the radio. Just the sound of their breathing and the road. 

"Hey," she says, as they're idling out front, "I can come in, if you want."

"It's okay," he says. "You have work tomorrow, and your mom's already- it's fine."

She reaches out, curling her fingers around his cheek. "You're sweet," she says. "Not in a shitty weasel way, you know that? The way that matters."

He swallows, leans forward. He thinks they're going to kiss but she drops her forehead against his and they are just there, the two of them, together. 

"Call me, okay? If you need -" 

"Yeah." Maybe he means it, maybe he doesn't. Either way, it matters that she said it, that she keeps saying it. 

Then she does kiss him, a soft bruise against his lips. 

And then he gets out of her car and goes home. 

-

  
  


They're all home for dinner, which is nice. They haven't all been home for like a week or something. Saying grace feels better than it usually does, a reminder that Miguel belongs somewhere, that that somewhere is  _ here _ . That Miguel could fucking kill someone in cold blood and sure his mom would fucking lose her mind but she'd love him anyway. 

He doesn't know Robby, really, not at all. But he knows Sensei and Sensei's run away from Miguel so many fucking times, just in this one year, even when Miguel's brought him back or he's brought himself back; and the times he hasn't run away he's lashed out, and god, he's good at that. He's a fighter. 

There's a whole lifetime of it, he thinks, back in Robby's bare bedroom. When he woke up, Tory was sleeping against his chest and Robby was on the floor with a pillow, curled up with his hair fanning out against the carpet. He looked little, like a kid, like someone who needed saving. 

"Haven't seen you in forever, Miggy," Mom says.

"I know, Mom," Miguel says. "Can we - stop doing that?"

She raises one eyebrow. "Can you start telling me about your face?"

"Ugh," he says. "Practice. I told you, it happens." But it feels - good. Nice. Like his chest is warm inside.

-

Miguel isn't sleeping, but he isn't  _ not _ sleeping; just stuck in that in between place where he could get up and do algebra but he's not going to, because he's technically growing and needs the rest. His nose fucking hurts.

The sound of one pebble, then another striking the window. Miguel shakes himself up, levering himself out of bed to the window. The sidewalk's bare and dark but there's a single figure down there in a hoodie and ripped jeans, waving when Miguel sticks his head out of the window. 

_ Fuck. _

Miguel points to the sidewalk and then to himself.  _ I'm coming. _

Robby looks pale in the light, worn thin. Like if Miguel held him up to the streetlight he'd be able to see through him. "Hey." His clothes don't fit but Miguel isn't going to point it out. No black eye; that's good news, right?

"Hey," Miguel says. He rubs his eyes. First the left one, then the right.

"I was going to go to Sam's," Robby says, and then he shakes his head. "But I didn't want to see her dad. I don't want to- talk about it. You know? She wants to fix things. She thinks you can fix things."

"Yeah," Miguel says. "I remember." He stuffs his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "You coming up?"

"Diaz-" Robby scuffs his feet against the curb. He looks like shit. 

"C'mon," Miguel says. "My mom has these great sleeping pills, nothing wakes her up."

"Okay," Robby says. "You're not -"

Miguel points to his nose. "Dude," he says. "If I was gonna get mad I'd be on Hawk, not you."

A tiny laugh. "Thanks."

"Sure."

Robby's never been in his bedroom. Nobody's been in this bedroom, actually. His friends don't come over because the apartment is so small, and Mom and Yaya are always doing stuff and it's just a hassle. Tory came in but just to get to the fridge and say hi. 

"Sorry," Miguel says. "It's kind of a mess." It looks like a kid's bedroom, he thinks: all his shit piled everywhere, his beanbag, his fucking twin bed. The pictures of his friends and Tory on the walls. The gi Sensei gave him hanging on the closet door.

"It's fine," Robby says, quiet. Pulls his hoodie over his head and drops it on the carpet next to Miguel's bed, folding down cross-legged after it.

"Hey," Miguel says. "You're skinny, it's fine. Unless you-"

"Okay," Robby says. He gets up, but he's looking at the floor, at his hands, everywhere but Miguel. 

"Now who's agreeing to everything?" He isn't really trying to get a rise out of Robby. He's just trying to get - anything. To get him to move. 

The air feels thick, heavy. The window's open but the heat is still hanging like a blanket over them both. 

"Diaz," Robby says, softly, and then he takes one step forward, and then - 

It's just like when they were in Robby's bedroom, and Robby had the joint, and he curled his hand around Miguel's cheek and blew the smoke right into Miguel's mouth, and he whispered  _ breathe _ , except this time he can't do that, he can't say anything, because-

Because Robby Keene is kissing him.


	4. Chapter 4

It's a good kiss, Miguel thinks. Robby is a good kisser. He kisses like Miguel is the only person in the world, the most precious and most beautiful thing. His hands tangle in Miguel's hair, in the collar of his shirt.

It's Miguel who steps back. It feels fucking stupid to do it, because, god, of course it does, but he has to do it, because he has to say, "Robby, I told your dad about Luke."

Robby reels. Maybe he looked worse when Miguel went for that shoulder; maybe Miguel's just scrabbling. "What?" 

"He was trying to find you. At LaRusso's."

"He went to the LaRusso's? He hates Mr LaRusso."

"They seemed okay. They were both worried about you." 

Robby looks around. Like Sensei, a little, like he's gonna bolt - but then he just grabs Miguel's desk chair and folds into it. "Shit."

"I'm sorry. He should have - I guess I don't know, I've never had a dad, but he shouldn't have let you leave."

Robby shakes his head. "He's fucked up." Then, with a hollow little laugh, "he's never even asked my mom for help.The bar is on the ground."

Miguel's mouth feels hot where Robby kissed him. Without thinking he lifts his hand to his lips. "I-" 

"I shouldn't have." Robby's eyes are steady, strong. "Forget about it, okay? You heard what my dad said. I'm always - trying to make sure nobody throws me away."

"I don't think that," Miguel says. He feels like - when he started at Cobra Kai and nothing could go right, not even his breathing. 

Robby laughs again, soft and empty. "How else do you explain - where I went today?" 

Miguel's mouth is dry. "Okay," he says. "But you're here now."

Robby sighs. "I guess it doesn't matter that you told him," he says. "He was gonna figure it out eventually, or - someone would have told him. Maybe I'd have had the balls to. I guess we don't know."

Miguel doesn't even - fuck. He doesn't know what to think. He probably  _ should  _ think, because this shit is like, blow up your life huge, but he can't even begin to touch any of what he wants because Robby is  _ here _ and most of all, more than anything, he wants Robby to stay. 

"Hey," Robby says. Miguel can see the rise of his shoulders,  _ maybe we should make this a fight. _ Maybe not fight, though; maybe flight. 

Miguel says, "You really don't have to sleep on the floor, okay?" 

The seismic shift, the ripple of kinetic energy all through Robby, from the balance of his feet to the shape of his eyes. Robby settles into defense mode, the way LaRusso taught him. Robby's all D. You don't realise, but then you get to know him. 

"You know," Robby says, quietly, "my dad wasn't wrong. I did - I wouldn't have started hanging out with you if it wasn't for him. I just wanted him to feel something."

Miguel sits down on his bed. "Well," he says, "if you want to play it like that, I was only nice to you because of your dad. He asked me to."

A little huff, Robby sitting down next to him, a careful distance away so their thighs don't touch. "Yeah?" 

"Not in so many words," Miguel admits. "He didn't know how to take care of you. He said that. Maybe I liked - that I knew that." He hasn't even really admitted it to himself. He likes the high ground, that's what Tory's always saying, that's what made him and Sam like each other, but - god, it was  _ nice _ to know that Sensei liked Miguel more. It was easy to keep that in his chest every time, to push the jealousy back, away.

Somewhere along the line it changed. He doesn't know when.

"Ah," Robby says. 

"Dads," Miguel says. "Right?" 

Robby tilts his head to the side, like a bird. The light's not on so it's just the light from the street in his eyes. "I think," he says, "we should probably go to sleep."

Miguel's stomach feels tight. It feels like he doesn't know what to say, but it's not like he's ever known what to say, with Robby. "Okay."

It's weird to be this close to Robby without talking, or hitting, if you're thinking heavily about it, which Miguel is trying not to do. They're not touching, but it's a close thing: Miguel can feel the heat off Robby's bare shoulder, the shape of him distorting the thin cover and the mattress. Neither of them is speaking but Robby's breathing just the same as Miguel, too careful to be asleep. 

It feels fucking stupid, but since when has that stopped either of them? 

His hand is lying in between them. He could just reach out. He could stretch out his pinky and Robby would be  _ there. _

But Robby isn't saying anything, he's just lying there, and anything Robby can do, Miguel can do. 

Actually: fuck that. 

He wiggles his fingers, knows Robby can feel it because of the soft hitch of his breath. "Hey."

"Hey," Robby whispers. His hand creeps across that infinite, infinitesimal space between them, and then, carefully, cautiously - settles into Miguel's palm. 

Robby falls asleep, eventually. His breath slows out, evens into that faint, steady rhythm. Miguel's never been so aware of anyone else, not like this. Even with Tory, things are different. Easier in some ways, more complicated in others, but he's never stayed awake and watched her sleep. 

He should go to sleep. He has to go to fucking  _ school _ tomorrow. 

But Robby's here, face scrunched up and tired, and if Miguel is here, he should - shouldn't let go, right? That wouldn't be fair.

So he lets his fingers curl around Robby's, because it's the only thing Robby will let him do, lets his body turn towards Robby's. He wants to kiss Robby's forehead, the way Robby looked after him when they were at that party, but this is different and it wouldn't be the right thing to do.

Robby  _ kissed him _ . And then Miguel kissed him back. 

Tory's gonna - 

Well. Tory gets the Robby thing, maybe better than Miguel does. They look at each other, sometimes, and it's like they speak a language Miguel doesn't, which is rich since Tory's Spanish fucking sucks. 

So maybe Tory won't freak out. 

_ I'm always trying to make sure nobody throws me away. _ Half of it was bluster, sure. The shitty thing Sensei said to Robby neutralized because he said it first, like when Sensei had Miguel do the crane kick at the tournament so LaRusso would know they knew who he was. But - 

Sensei did lose because of that crane kick. And Robby and Sam were Robby-and-Sam and then Robby left.

And now Robby is here. 

Miguel squeezes Robby's hand, maybe a little too tight because Robby makes a soft sound in his sleep, but he doesn't pull away, just tucks his face closer to Miguel, into his shoulder. 

Miguel doesn't let go.

Miguel's alarm blares and he startles awake, arms and legs moving too fast, and also, choking on a mouthful of - 

"That's my hair," Robby says, sitting back, raking his fingers over his head. "Sorry. It gets everywhere."

"Ah," Miguel says, because it's 6 on a school day and his brain is not online. He set it early so they'd have time before Mom and Yaya woke up. Doesn't feel like time now, so much as physical removal from the soft blanket that is sleep. 

Robby blinks at him and that's like a hard reboot, full restart.  _ Robby kissed you _ . That's not really the thing though, is it: it's  _ Robby ran away.  _ Even that's not right _. Robby came here.  _

They are crammed together in Miguel's bed, Robby's elbow in Miguel's kidney and Miguel's knee looped over Robby's legs, and Miguel is staring at Robby and Robby is staring back. 

"Your nose looks  _ bad _ ," Robby says, drawing out the last a. The tiniest grin pulls at the edges of his mouth. His hair is a tangled mess around his face. 

"Thanks," Miguel says, reaching out to tuck a tangle of Robby's hair behind his ear. "Busted it myself." 

Robby doesn't move, lets Miguel do it. It feels weird to know what they both know:  _ you kissed me, I kissed you back. Now we are in this together. _ It feels weirder that it doesn't really matter. 

Miguel yawns. "We should get up."

It's not like when he was a kid, waking up at someone's house, or waking someone up to watch cartoons. It's not like after a party, either, when everyone's kind of fucked together and it's a project, dragging each other into the morning. It's a little bit like - when he's with Tory, maybe. The two of them, a quiet thing that's just for them.

That's fucked. 

"Yeah," Robby says. He doesn't move. Maybe Miguel can feel his heartbeat or maybe that's just his own heart but - 

Fuck. 

It's still dark out, just the beginning of the sunrise starting to crawl over the horizon. The lamp on Miguel's desk casts a little pool of light, barely enough for one person, let alone two. 

Miguel sighs and gets out of bed. It feels weird, vulnerable: at night it was just like, of course, how else are you gonna sleep? But now he's standing in front of Robby just in boxers, with bedhead.

Robby sits up all the way, pulling the blanket with him so he can lean his back against the wall. "Don't worry," he says, "I've seen worse." 

"Fuck you, dude," Miguel says, turning to his closet. There's like, at least one clean t-shirt in here, probably. Both Mom and Yaya are always yelling at him about that, but they're really not that gross. 

He can feel Robby's eyes on his back, hear the quiet sound of Robby's breath. He digs a t shirt out of the pile and pulls it on over his head, and that feels a little better, a little more like he's not completely naked. Yesterday's jeans, that's fine. 

"Sam told me," Robby says, "about how you guys met. How you saved her."

"She didn't need me," Miguel says. He tries to smooth his hair down with his hands but it is going nowhere. Whatever, he's dressed, it'll have to do: he can turn around, and he's going to.  _ No mercy. _ "She could've wiped the floor with them, I've seen her. It was mostly for me. Those guys kicked the shit out of me all the time."

Robby's looking down at his hands, tangled up in Miguel's blanket, but he lifts his head, meets Miguel's eyes. Then he flashes a bright, easy smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I guess you do have that kind of face."

"Hey!" Miguel looks down at the floor, where - shit. The pile of the clothes Robby was wearing last night, too big and smelling a lot like someone else's cologne. "You can, uh - we're probably close enough, if you want -" 

"Some clothes that fit?" Robby sighs. "Yeah, thanks."

His closet is just around the corner. Out the door, through. 

"If you want," Miguel says, "you can stay for breakfast? It's cool, they won't mind." Probably not, anyway. Yaya believes very strongly in feeding anyone in the house, and Mom was raised by her, so he trusts that to be the overriding instinct while he comes up with a story that'll make it not sound like Robby's a fucking felon, or something.

Something flashes across Robby's face, but it's gone before Miguel can try to decipher it. "It's okay," he says. "I've been the bad influence enough times, I don't - really have the energy for it today."

That makes sense. "Sure. You want a t-shirt, or something longer?" 

"Whatever works." Robby's not looking at him. It's like Sensei, Miguel thinks. Hates when you help him.

The first clean tee has the Cobra on the back. Miguel only realizes when he holds it up to the light and both of them wince. "Maybe not that," he offers.

"Maybe not," Robby agrees. 

They settle on a faded green t shirt and jeans Miguel never wears, which at least are clean. Both Miguel's mom and his yaya would flay him if he offered a guest anything dirty; he is doing his goddamn best. 

Robby unfurls from Miguel's bed, stretching his arms above his head. ( _ Abs. _ That feels like a different thing to notice now.) "Thanks."

"I'm gonna brush my teeth," Miguel says. "Be right back." 

Yeah, he's running. Who cares? Not Miguel.

He feels better when he's washed his face, brushed his teeth, brushed his hair. He looked tired in the bathroom mirror, and his nose is a great combination of green and purple which sucks, but he's looked worse, thanks for nothing Kyler, so that's going for him.

When he opens his bedroom door the calm fades: there's Robby, standing in the middle of Miguel's bedroom, wearing Miguel's clothes, looking out the window. The sunrise is in its glory, the whole sky red and gold. 

Miguel steps through the doorway, closes the door behind him and leans back against it. Won't be much use in a fight, but it's nice to have something solid against your back. "Hey."

Miguel's bed is made. That means Robby made Miguel's bed. He can't not look at it. 

Robby sucks in a deep, long breath and turns. "Okay," he says. "I need- can you do something for me? It's okay if you can't-"

Miguel shakes his head. "Sure, of course."

Robby sighs, looking down at his bare feet. "You have to go into my bedroom and look under the mattress, into the box spring. There's - a backpack. It has Mickey Mouse on it. If my dad, if he's there - I just need it, okay?" 

"Oh."

"Shit," Robby says. His hand stretches out, shaking, like he's going to touch Miguel, but he pulls it back. "Hey, no, it's fine. I'll figure something out, okay?" 

"No, if you need- I can do it." Miguel swallows. "I guess I just. Thought you left."

Robby sighs. "If it was that easy, everyone would be doing it."

"So, uh." Miguel digs his fingers into his pockets. It's easy to look everywhere but at Robby, but Robby's where he wants to look, so. He settles on the laces of Robby's shoes by the door. "What happened? Exactly?"

Robby runs his fingers through his tangled hair. It doesn't help at all. "You know what Luke does, right? Kind of."

Tory, in the back of his mind, with her cool eyes and bitten lip. "He's in school. That's what you told your dad."

Robby quirks his mouth, up at the corner. "Sure," he says. "Business school at Stanford. It's cool out there, Peter Thiel's always around." A pause. "Luke's a dealer. Nothing too hard the last time we talked, just party shit, but he's a great fucking liar, so who knows."

"Oh," Miguel says. "Yeah. That."

Robby sits down on the edge of Miguel's bed. "You wanna-"

"Yeah, okay." Miguel takes the desk chair. "I'm listening." 

"I was fourteen and I was broke, and our power kept cutting out, and my mom-" he shakes his head. "My mom was trying her best but it just wasn't working, you know? I was hanging out with Luke, fucking around, and I knew he had money but I also knew he was making money, because sometimes he'd cut me in for just like, deliveries and shit. Not that much but it was cool, and he was cool, and he made me feel - whatever." 

Miguel nods. "Okay."

"It was my idea, I guess, technically. I was the one who asked. Begged him, actually," and Robby rolls his eyes at that, as if at his past self. "I told him not to treat me like a kid and he kept blowing me off until I stole some of his shit, and then - after that, he let me. It was good money, I was good at it. I liked hanging out with his friends. Some of them were my friends. They made me feel like I mattered."

The orange is fading from the sky, the blue-grey of the LA skyline coming to the fore. 

Robby's chewing his lip. "We were together, I guess, if you want to call it that, for a couple of years before he went to school and - stopped calling. That was around the time I got a job at LaRusso Auto. At first I just wanted to piss my dad off, but my dad didn't give a shit, obviously, and it was fun; it was easy to work hard for, to be good at."

Miguel is quietly, fiercely, jealous. It's never been easy for him, not for a second, and Robby - shit. Robby can do a two-legged kick off one hand. Easy? Fuck. But it's not about him and it's not about them, it's about Robby, and he said he'd listen, so he will.

"So I belonged there, and I wasn't dealing with those guys anymore so they weren't on my case, and even if they were-" he shrugs. "I could handle them. Because Luke was at school, doing school things, and my mom dates losers so I know what a breakup looks like." His voice is flat, so flat even fucking Demetri would be able to tell it's a cover. 

"And then Sam." Maybe he shouldn't have said it like that. 

Robby laughs, grimly. "And then Sam." The light makes him look even more tired, like how Sensei looks when you wake him up too early on a Sunday. "I've been thinking about it, and probably my dad and Mr LaRusso were right. I don't really know what it's like to belong somewhere. Being with Luke was easy, because I was dating him and that meant he wouldn't ditch me, until, you know. He did." 

Miguel feels like he should - say something. Do something. There should be something to say or do. But that's not a class Sensei teaches and probably even if he did he'd have some fucking stupid things to say. "Sam wouldn't-"  _ Take advantage. Leave you behind.  _

"No," Robby says. "She wouldn't. And I didn't mean to, honestly. I wouldn't use her. But-" A low, long, inhale, and then the breath out. " _ Anyway, _ the whole reason this shit kicked off: Luke goes to the same beach club, obviously, and he knows the LaRussos because rich people all know each other, and I guess he was mad that I was with someone else, or that the someone else was Sam, or that I like, wasn't just there waiting for him. So he invited himself to dinner and told them all about it."

_ Aisha says Mr. LaRusso is nice _ , Miguel thinks.  _ Do not say that.  _ He does not say it. 

"He didn't say anything that was technically not true," Robby says. He's stopped looking at Miguel, just looking out the window again. His lower lip is red from where he keeps biting it. "He said it in a way that sounded - I guess like we were seriously fucked up, like we were taking advantage of old ladies or something. We did a couple things like that, he said I cleaned up good and I was pretty good at it, but it was just like - I don't know. It doesn't sound good whatever way I say it, but it was all people who could afford it. Just saying we were going to build a school in Africa or whatever and then they'd give us some cash and we'd go. Shit like that. Maybe worse shit than that."

Probably Miguel is supposed to think that's bad, but Tory's mom got fired for taking leftovers nobody wanted and he thinks about the way Tory sounded when she told him about it all the time. "Okay."

"It sounded bad when he said it," Robby repeats. "It was bad. And Sam was sitting next to me and he said,  _ oh you switched teams, huh, princess? _ and it - fuck. Everyone was looking at me. And then my fucking dad showed up so I wasn't going to stick around and let them kick me out, so that makes one fucking time in his shitty life that he's ever showed up on time for anything."

"He talked to Aisha's dad," Miguel says, before he can tell himself  _ shut the fuck up _ . "He was pretty freaked out about it. I think he was planning it for like, a month and a half."

"Oh," Robby says. "Whatever." 

They sit still for a minute, Robby looking at Miguel like he's trying to read something in his face, and Miguel not sure what he should be doing with his face. 

Oh, of course, dumbass. "I, uh. I still want to be friends. Does that help?"

"What are you, a PSA? Jesus." But a little bit of the tension bleeds out of Robby's shoulders; it's like Sensei but it isn't, because it's Robby, and Robby is his own person. "So the last thing, which is the kicker, is that before I quit my life of crime I got caught dealing, at my old school. Not a big deal, it's a barely a misdemeanor and who isn't doing molly? No offence, Diaz."

"None taken," Miguel says. He's a little bit offended.

"The shitty part was that they flushed it. Usually they just confiscate, put in a locker somewhere and you can break back in. But it was like, shit. It was worth money. My fault for having it all there, but my mom's boyfriend- not the point. The point is that my guy was usually pretty cool with me, because, you know, I was sucking his dick, but he was at Stanford and I was devoting myself to my new life of karate and like I said, he's loaded, so it's not like he missed it. He used to blow that in a weekend, when I was with him."

"But you broke up."

"I'm not even the one who broke up with him!" Robby groans, hiding his face in his hands. "I thought he was gonna be fine with blowing up my fucking life, but that was my fucking fault for showing up looking for - who even knows what I thought he was going to do. Fuck. Not like he's ever solved one of my problems in his fucking life."

It's Miguel's turn to chew his lower lip. "I fucked things up for you, huh."

Robby shakes his head. "No, fuck. I mean, yes. But if you hadn't I don't know - maybe I'd still be there now. I don't know what the fuck's wrong with me, I just. Lose my mind when I'm with him." He screws his eyes shut. "The end of this whole long fucking story, obviously, is that I  _ do  _ owe him not a little money, and when we were at that party he offered me an easy way to get it back to him, and now I fucking have to." 

"Shit."

"Yeah."

The door cracks open. Smooth, easy. It's not like Miguel doesn't have practice; he knows exactly how far to push to keep it soft. 

One step, then another.

Sensei's on the couch, sacked out. There's a pile of empty Coors beside him and he looks like shit, like always, but he's wearing a sweater that's too small for him, a hoodie that pulls across his chest and his arms.

There's a piece of paper on the table next to him, just barely out of range of the Banquets. Against his better judgement Miguel creeps as close as he can get and -

Shit. It's a crayon drawing, three little stick people.  _ Mommy, Daddy, Robby. _

Fuck. 

Miguel shakes his head and keeps his distance. Everything's where Robby said it would be. He has to be careful lifting the mattress because the box spring is old and creaky, but the backpack is there - Mickey Mouse right there, smiling at him - so he fishes it out. If he was anyone else - Sam, for sure, probably even Tory - he'd unzip it and look inside, but Robby already told him everything that matters, so he doesn't. 

"Bye, Sensei," he whispers. He feels bad. If it was any other day he'd pull a blanket over Sensei, pick up some of the crap, but it isn't and he doesn't want to. Just because Miguel trusts Sensei doesn't mean Robby has to, and it would be a dick move to go behind his back after all of this. 

Robby's waiting for him out front, hair tucked behind his ears, squinting into the sun. Miguel's clothes fit close enough; Robby dresses enough like him, anyway. He doesn't look out of place.

Miguel holds the bag against his chest, can't resist it. "What's in the bag?" 

Robby kicks the curb. "Diaz, seriously. I don't want you in this any more than you are."

"I'm in it, Keene." But Sam could have saved her own damn self, so he hands the bag over. 

Robby nods, slings it over his shoulder. "Thanks." 

"Sure." 

They're just standing there. It feels like Miguel should know what to say, should know what to do. He wishes it was the lunchroom. If it was a question of just kicking someone in the head, man, the two of them would be unstoppable. Tory and Sam would probably help. He'd even ask Hawk; Hawk loves a fight. It'd be a bloodbath. 

"I gotta go." Robby isn't looking at him. Miguel wishes he would. 

He has to ask. "Would it be different," he says, softly, stepping as close as he dares, "if I hadn't -" _ stopped kissing you _ .

Robby shrugs. "I don't know," he says, lifting his face so their eyes can meet. "But you did."

-

Tory and Sam are both waiting for Miguel in first period English, and fuck, is it ever not the mood. Sam doesn't even pretend to pay attention, just grabs Miguel by the wrist, blows by Mrs Carter with a  _ newspaper meeting, be right back! _ and slams him up against the lockers outside.

"Hey, LaRusso," Tory says, mildly, "watch it." 

Sam glares at Tory and then turns the glare back to Miguel. "I am  _ sick _ of being out of the loop," she grits out. "You don't even like Robby!"

Miguel has to laugh. God, if only. 

"What's funny?" Sam lets go of his collar to frown at him. 

"They're friends, genius," Tory smirks, sharp and mean. "Just needed you to leave them alone, turns out they get along."

"Tory!" Miguel says. "That's - really not it, Sam."

It kind of is, but Tory fights dirty, always has. He doesn't mind but it's not Sam's style and that's not her fault. 

Sam's hands slip to her sides. "Miguel, is that-" She has those big eyes. Fuck. 

"We get along," Miguel says. "You know, we have mutual interests." _You. Sensei._ _Karate._ All the things they've tried to take from each other, back and forth, endlessly, scared they'd end up like Sensei and Mr LaRusso but unable to stop, because it matters too much. 

Sam huffs out a breath, pulling herself together. She looks hurt, still, and that makes Miguel feel like shit, but what else is he supposed to do? "Okay," she says. "Fine. Have you heard from him?" 

Tory's leaning against the lockers, pretending to be cool. He knows the way she narrows her eyes; she's paying attention, hanging on it. 

"Yeah." He's not sure how much Robby would want him to say, how much he would be okay with Sam knowing. Miguel gets it; it's not like he wants Sam to think of him as beat up on the pavement either. "He's okay, I think." 

"You said he was with that guy." She chews her lower lip; it looks like Robby. He wonders who had the nervous movement first. "When you were yelling at Johnny. The guy who looked like him."

Tory raises an eyebrow.  _ I'll lie for you, if you want. _

He shakes his head.  _ It's okay.  _ "Yeah," he says. "He told me it was kind of a mess, with him and your family."

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, opens them. "It wasn't - they just weren't thinking, you know? It's fine, everyone knows, he was a kid. Even if he did break the law, it's not that easy to just - write someone off. We just knew Luke, from before. He used to tutor me in math. So it was just hard."

Miguel swallows. There's a lump in his throat. He thinks about the way Robby said  _ she thinks you can fix things. _ "He was pretty freaked out."

"Yeah, I mean, he'd have to be, to go back to living with his dad." She chews the inside of her mouth. "Sorry, no offense." 

Tory takes one step closer, then another. The warmth of her body is close enough that Miguel could reach out, if he wanted to, but he doesn't have to because she's not going anywhere.

_ Robby kissed you. _

He touches his mouth, an unconscious movement he doesn't catch until it's too late. "I told him to talk to you," he says. "He was going to soon, I'm pretty sure. He just needed a little time to get back to himself."

She nods, but she won't meet his eyes. "Except his dad fucked it up."

That's not fair, either, but it's not exactly - not true. "Yeah. That guy, Luke, he's just been in Robby's head for a long time. It all kind of boiled over."

"Is he with you now?" That's Tory, quiet and calm. Tory knows nothing so much like how to keep her head in a fight and he - wants to keep that close to his chest forever. "Or is he-"

Miguel sighs. That's enough of an answer. 

"We have to get him," Sam says. "Fuck this, Miguel, that guy  _ sucks _ ." 

"He said he had to deal with it," Miguel says. 

"You can't," Sam says, whirling on him, shoving her hands against his chest. "What the fuck, you're all such bullies when it comes to pushing around the freshmen but not when it comes to a fair fight, is that it?" It's not a real opening hit, it's just emotion.

Tory's on her in a second, but it's a careful hold, more gentle than Miguel's seen her: Tory's hands around Sam's wrists, pressing them against her chest. "Hey," she says. "Sometimes we need to fight our own battles."

" _ Fuck you,"  _ Sam hisses. "How fucking  _ dare _ you." 

"Back off," Tory hisses back. 

The air's sharp like it is before a storm, like it is in the dojo when something's about to go down. 

Miguel probably should like, get in the middle of it, but he's fucking tired. It's been a day already and it's not even 9am.

Sam breathes in through her nose, and then steps back. "Fine," she says. "What's the plan, then? Are we just waiting until he turns up in the fucking lake?" 

"You shouldn't watch Lifetime movies," Tory says. "He's just gotta move it, and it'll be fine."

"Oh, you would know?" Sam's eyebrows are up to her hairline. "Because of how you move drugs all the time?"

Tory rolls her eyes. "Grow up, LaRusso. He's tough, he's used to it. You'd only make it worse, because he'd have to take care of you, too. Do you get it?" 

Sam's shoulders slump. "I just," she says. "It's not fair. He's a good person."

"Everyone has a story," Tory says. "You just have to let them tell it." 

"Fuck you," Sam says. But it's quiet, tired. "We can go back in now."

Miguel wants to - tell her it's all going to be okay. Call a teacher or something. But he can't, because it won't. He lets Tory tangle their fingers together and they follow Sam in.

-

Tory waits for lunch. He knows it's coming and he can't keep his head together all day, but she's quiet when she drags him outside at lunch, pulls him under the bleachers where the stoners are ignoring them. She isn't wearing eyeliner. He didn't notice, before.

"Hey," she says. "What was that?" 

He scrubs his hand over his eyes, checks his phone. Nothing, obviously; Robby's a shitty texter at the best of times, like Tory. Not like Miguel. Miguel is a great texter. He always replies on time and with interest. "Seriously?"

"Not  _ Sam," _ she says, rolling her eyes. "But I will never let you forget you dated her, because that's fucking embarrassing for you. I mean, you saw him last night and you didn't call me?"

Oh. That. 

Because Robby kissed him and it was all damage control after that. 

(Sure. Whatever you want to believe.)

"That was fucked up," he says. "I'm sorry. It was just - really late when he showed up, and I was just trying to keep him there, you know? I don't know what he was doing or where he was coming from."  _ And he kissed me. _ If it didn't mean anything he would just fucking say it, but here he is. Not saying it.

"How'd he look?" She looks down at her hands. "I know I don't - but I like him. And I know I said - what I said, right before."

_ Oh.  _ Because she said,  _ be careful,  _ and  _ he really hates his dad,  _ and then it all went- extremely bad.

"It wasn't your fault," Miguel says. Takes one step forward, then another, so he can curl his hands around her face. He's never touched Robby like this. He doesn't even think about it. "And it wasn't - you weren't wrong to think it, you know? It's not like I wasn't - I was trying to get to him, too. Because of Sensei." 

She sighs. "He wouldn't hurt you, though. I know that."

"Yeah?" It's what Miguel thinks, too. But Miguel's been known to believe stupid things, like the best about everyone. 

"Yeah," Tory says. She leans in, tucks her cheek against his. She's warm, soft. People don't see, because of all the spikes, but she is. "Because I wouldn't. And we're like each other, I think." 

"He was okay," Miguel says, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. "I thought he'd be worse but he was fine. He didn't want to see - his dad. Sensei."

"When you were fucked up," she says, quietly, "we were talking, him and me. About - shit. How he thought he loved that guy. How he sometimes thinks he still does. How it's hard to tell."

He kisses her cheek. Waits.

"There've been guys like that," she says, quietly. "With me. I'm not like Sam, you know? I'm not - a fucking blank slate. Things weren't all good for me the whole time."

He should say,  _ hey, that's not fair. _ He should say,  _ she's a good person. _ He should say,  _ I liked those things about her. _

He says, "You want to go break some noses? I'll hold your purse."

She laughs, soft, and he hears the catch of a sob in it, but then she tips her face up and they're kissing, and it's not going to fix anything, but it's something, at least.

-

Sensei shows up to class after school, which is not something Miguel technically saw coming, but is kind of disappointed by anyway. He's not really sure what he expected.

Tory touches his foot with her foot. Just the barest brush. Anyone would think it was an accident.

He lets himself smile.

Sensei doesn't talk to Miguel for the whole class, just normal watch your hands do thirty pushups on your knuckles, but he claps his hand on Miguel's shoulder when everyone is leaving. 

"He called me," he says. "I texted him, and I called him, and I left 40 messages, and I threatened to come and find him. And then he called me."

Miguel's sweaty and his fucking nose still hurts. "Yeah?" Maybe he should apologise. Maybe he should say,  _ that was your business, and I shouldn't have said anything. _

"Yeah. Can I drive you home?" 

"If you want."

They get Miguel's bike into the back of the Challenger together and then Miguel says, "It was cool, that you went to LaRusso," and Sensei says, "You were right, I fucked up," and then they are staring at each other and Miguel can't help it, the laugh bubbles out of him and he's doubled over and Sensei's laughing, too, and both of them are sitting down on the pavement like idiots. 

"Of course I want him to come back," Sensei says, quietly, after they've both settled down. He stretches out his legs in front of him, carefully, like they'll creak if he moves them wrong. "I just- man. I don't know how to have him back." 

"Yeah," Miguel says. "I got that."

"Hey," Sensei says, reaching out to swat his knee. "I deserve that."

Miguel tips his head back, looking up at the clouds. They're fat and puffy, drifting without a care in their cloud-minds. 

"I just don't know how to deal with it, you know?" Sensei's looking at him, like Miguel knows - well, anything. Miguel doesn't know anything. That's the whole point of Miguel. 

"I think," Miguel says, "probably you shouldn't say that you like me more than you like him right in front of him. That's probably a good place to start." 

"I was worried about you!" Sensei says. "You're just a kid, Miguel. Robby's a kid, too, but - fuck. He's just tough, you know?"

"He didn't get born that way," Miguel says. "You know that, right?"

He didn't mean it to come out like that. Like an accusation.

Sensei takes it like a hit. Closes his eyes, deep breath in. Opens them. "Yeah. I do." 

"I didn't think we were going to be friends," Miguel says. "I would have told you." Sensei matters to him. He's a whole world, despite all the shitty things about him, all the ways he let Robby down and Miguel, too: he cracked the world open for Miguel, made it light up, brand new. 

"No," Sensei says. "Don't apologise. It's good - for both of you, I think." He offers Miguel a small, careful smile. "He said I was lucky to have you. I said yeah, I know."

Every time he says it Miguel feels- god. Stupid inside. Warm. "Me too." 

"Nah," Sensei says, but he reaches over to ruffle Miguel's hair. 

Miguel sighs. "How'd he sound? Robby?"

Sensei sighs. Drops his hands to his sides, like he'd like to have a beer in them, but he doesn't get up and go to the store, so that's something. "He sounded like he always does. Pissed off. But - I don't know. Not good. I need you to be straight with me, Diaz. How bad is this?"

Miguel's stomach hurts. "I-"

"That's not fair." Sensei sighs, looks down at his hands. "He said he was fine, and he'd call me later. He told me not to do anything. I - maybe that's an excuse."

"I don't know," Miguel says. "I - he really didn't want anyone else to help him."

"You saw him?" 

Miguel swallows.  _ I kissed your son, and then I gave him some drugs so he could sell them, so he can get out of debt with his dealer who is also his messy ex. _ Not - the kind of thing Sensei is ready to hear, even if he was at his best. "He slept over last night."

"Fuck," Sensei says, and then he shakes his head. "I'm glad he came to you."

"Yeah," Miguel says. "I just - I didn't want him to leave, you know?"  _ And I couldn't trust you with him. I trust you with a lot of things. But not with him.  _

"Yeah." Sensei sighs. "This guy - the ex."

"I can't-" Miguel starts.

"Yeah, you can," Sensei says, firmly. "And you're gonna."

He doesn't say everything. He can't. It wouldn't be fair to Robby and it wouldn't be fair to Sensei, either, because he needs to earn it. But he does get out the worst of it: that the guy is a piece of shit, that Robby won't leave him, maybe that Robby can't. That Robby has something to do and then he'll be free of him. 

Sensei flinches at every sentence, but he waves his hand for Miguel to keep talking. It's not a lot but it's something, Miguel thinks; that's a Robby thing to think, probably.

"Robby said you liked him." Miguel's draped his arms over his knees, resting his chin on his forearms. "When you met, he said you liked him. And you said you liked him."

Sensei rubs his hand over his jaw. He didn't shave today and the stubble is dark around his face. "Luke," he says. "Tall kid, handsome. Charming." 

"If you're into that," Miguel says. 

"Christ," Sensei says. "He'd have been - fuck. Seventeen? Your age? Older?" His voice trails off, breaking at the end. 

"Hey," Miguel says. "C'mon, Sensei."

"Robby was  _ fourteen _ ," Sensei says. "You don't know how young that is, because you're a kid, but  _ fuck _ , it's young. Did his mother know?"

"If this was a girl, you'd be high fiving him," Miguel says. Not because he likes Luke. But because - well. It's true. 

"Well, it isn't," Sensei says. "And if the girl was telling him to sell drugs I'd be exactly this pissed.  _ Fuck. _ The- molly. What the fuck even is molly? What kind of name is that?"

"What did you think happened? When he left the LaRusso's?" 

Sensei has surprisingly expressive eyes, for someone with alarming emotional constipation. "I didn't get there for the beginning of it. Only the end. I - he was already on his way out. Robby. He's so fucking smart, you know? I was never like that, I don't know where he gets it from. Me and his mom, we're not quick like that. He said it was that he'd had a boyfriend, and they'd freaked out. I guess I was so happy thinking it wasn't me who'd panicked that I didn't ask anything else."

That sounds like Sensei. 

"Like I've told you, the way I've treated Robby - it's the biggest regret of my life." Sensei sighs. His eyes are red up this close. Miguel wonders how late he was up sitting on that couch, waiting. "I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. But I- he's my kid. He's my  _ kid. _ "

Miguel swallows. Thinks about the shape of Robby curled up next to him, the way Robby said,  _ you know how I am. I'll do anything to make someone stay. _ "I think," he says, "he doesn't know that. Not really."

Sensei takes a deep breath, a gulp of air, not a sob. "Yeah," he says. "I think you're right." 

-

It's just Yaya and Miguel for dinner. Yaya looks at Miguel over beans and rice, says,  _ If someone needs to be here, they can stay.  _

He forgets, all the time, that she had a whole life before him. She and Mom. That it was harder than anything he's ever known, and that she lived through it and remains - herself. Kind. Full of grace. 

He doesn't know what to say so he just nods. "Thanks, Yaya."

-

The text comes around eleven, after Miguel's brushed his teeth but before he's in bed. Tory was texting him to cool down after work but she trailed off without saying goodnight, which usually means she's fallen asleep directly onto her phone. The snake group chat's gone quiet, for once. 

_ U up?  _

Miguel doesn't bother texting back, just goes to the window. There's the familiar shape in that familiar low light. Something tight in his chest eases. 

_ Come over, _ he replies.

Robby's wearing a hoodie and it hides his face, throws it into shadow. "Hey," he whispers, stepping past Miguel into the quiet of the apartment. "Thanks."

"Where's the-," Miguel whispers back, thinking about the Mickey Mouse bag he fished out of Robby's bed. 

Robby grimaces. "I have a place," he says. "I wouldn't bring it in here."

"Oh," Miguel says. "Thanks." 

Robby shrugs. "It's the least I could do." He pushes the hood back and-

"Fuck," Miguel says. "Hope the other guy looks worse."

Robby tucks his hands into his hoodie pockets. "It's better than it looks." In the light it looks pretty bad. Robby's whole right eye is fresh bruise black and there's a new scab on his lip. 

"Well," Miguel says, and then he shrugs. "I guess we match now, right?" 

Robby laughs, low and sweet. "Yeah."

They stand there for a minute, in Miguel's living room with his microwave blinking the time. Miguel runs his fingers through his own hair. Robby does that, maybe he picked it up. "Listen, my grandma's asleep, you wanna take a shower?" 

Robby takes one step forward, then another. Leans right in. "You saying I smell?"

"Yeah, like garbage." Miguel doesn't blink. He knows how to not flinch. 

Robby is looking at his mouth. His eyelashes are so long. Miguel's never thought about a guy like this but he's never like,  _ not  _ thought about it, you know? It just wasn't -

It doesn't matter, though, because Robby  _ is  _ right, because Miguel is the only person Robby has right now and both of them are working really hard to not fuck it up. 

So. 

"All right," Robby says, smiling that bright dimple smile. "If you say so." 

It's fucking weird to keep seeing Robby in Miguel's clothes. If he didn't know it wouldn't be, they'd just be clothes, but they're in Miguel's bedroom and Robby is wearing a free t-shirt Miguel's mom brought home from a hospital fundraiser and a pair of Miguel's boxers. His hair is dripping onto the collar of Miguel's shirt.

"Hey." 

"Hey," Miguel says. He kicks the bottom of his bedframe. "Feel better?" 

"Yeah," Robby says. He looks at the desk chair and then sits down next to Miguel, on the bed. "Thanks. Borrowed your toothbrush - I'm kidding, I used my finger." 

Miguel looks down at their knees. There's a gap between them but it's not that far. "Sensei- your dad - said you called him." 

"Yeah," Robby says. "He wouldn't stop calling, so." He ducks his head, damp hair slick against the back of his neck. 

"Okay," Miguel says. "How'd it go? You don't have to tell me, obviously. You can stay here as long as you want." 

Robby sighs. "It was okay. He apologised a lot. He used to not apologise ever, so I guess that's because of you? It was weird." A beat. "What did he say to you?" 

"Mostly that he felt bad," Miguel says. And then, quietly, "he just wanted to know you were safe."

"That's a first," Robby says. He rolls his eyes, and then, sheepish, "I know you think he's a good guy."

"I get that you don't." Miguel shrugs. "I feel like we're on Dr Phil or something. Agree to disagree."

"Healthy," Robby agrees. 

And that reminds him - "Fuck," Miguel says. "I forgot to ask if you wanted some food. I think there's leftovers."

"I'm not my dad," Robby says, grinning a little. "I ate. Not corner store pizza. Thanks, though."

"You're welcome." And then, "I think my Yaya - my grandma - she knows someone's here. She's cool."

"Yeah?" 

"Really. She's the one who talked my mom into letting me take karate. Hey, do you wanna talk about the-" Miguel raises his hand to his own eye.

"Not really," Robby says, poking the bruise gingerly with the tip of a finger. "If that's okay. It's fine, you know I can take care of myself."

"Sure," Miguel says.  _ I wish you didn't have to.  _ "Tory says hi, by the way. She fell on her ass trying to get a spin kick on Hawk today, it was great."

Robby laughs. "Sam called me, she was pissed you got Tory involved. We, I guess. I threw you under the bus, sorry."

"That's okay," Miguel says. "I wish they didn't hate each other, it sucks."

"Yeah," Robby says. "If you and me can be - chill," the pause so long you could throw a guy through it, "you'd think they could get it together." And then he yawns, which is contagious, obviously, because Miguel is yawning too. 

"It's late," Miguel says. 

Robby nods. "I can-" 

" _ Robby,"  _ Miguel says, and then they're staring at each other and it feels - 

So he gets up and turns the light out, and by the time he's turned back Robby is already in the bed, all the way to the wall to leave room for Miguel. 

It's weird to navigate. Like he should leave space but he doesn't want Robby to feel like he  _ needs _ space, right? He doesn't want Robby to feel weird about it. 

"Overthinking it, Diaz," Robby says. Miguel can hear the smile in his voice. 

"Okay," Miguel says. He gets into bed. 

They lie there for a while, in the dark, in silence. Miguel likes being quiet with Robby; he talks a lot, usually, but with Robby it feels like - like being in the dojo, maybe. Like you can just be. 

"When I was a kid," Robby says, "my dad used to be -" He rolls over so his face is sideways, so Miguel has to roll to meet him. "I don't know. Not like  _ homophobic _ homophobic but just. He'd point it out, you know? Just talk shit all the time. Fairies, queers, all that 80s bullshit."

The moonlight and the light from the street mingle in Robby's eyes. 

"He wouldn't start a fight or anything. Call someone something to their face. But you know how it is."

"He called me Menudo the first time we met," Miguel says, dryly. "I know how it is."

Robby blinks once, then again. "Sounds like him."

Miguel wants to - reach out. What would he do with his hands? What should he do with them now? 

"When I was with Luke," Robby says, thoughtfully, "I kept like - god, this sounds so stupid. But he always wanted to do stupid shit and I always let him, and I think I was just. Waiting for my dad to find out, you know? Because I knew he'd care about that, even if he didn't care about me."

"I never knew my dad," Miguel says. "I used to be so mad at my mom about that. She said he was a bad guy and I said,  _ what if you're just a bad mom?  _ I don't think I ever said anything worse." Robby is just looking at him. Not like he feels sorry for Miguel or anything stupid like that. Just like - he's listening. 

"She told me later that it was okay," Miguel says. "She didn't mind that I thought that, even though it sucked, because at least I didn't think it was my fault that my dad wasn't around."

He can barely see the bruise on Robby's face anymore; it's faded into the dark of the room, into the quiet between them. 

"Diaz," Robby says. His voice is low, barely a whisper, but fierce, as if he - wants. 

Miguel can feel his heart beating against his ribs. "You're not stupid," he says. "I just wanted to say that."


	5. Chapter 5

Robby was gone when Miguel woke up, but he left a note on the desk.  _ You're so pretty when you sleep, I couldn't wake you up.  _ He could practically hear the wry teasing note in Robby's voice, see the way he'd look at Miguel through his eyelashes to say it.

He's in a better mood at school, even for first period Math. Tory pushes his hair away from his eyes and kisses his cheek, says, "things looking up?"

"Not for my algebra homework," Miguel says, but lightly. 

Sam drops her backpack down on the bench in between them. "Hi," she says. 

Tory rolls her eyes. "Oh, great. Just who I wanted to see."

"Then it's your lucky day," Sam says, unflappable and bright. "Muffin?" She pulls out a Tupperware with a handwritten label on the top:  _ MUFFINS _ . 

"Sure," Miguel says, ducking Tory's laser glare. "Look, I'm not going to turn down a muffin, Nichols."

"Don't worry," Sam says, "I don't bake with snake venom." 

Tory groans and puts her face into her hands. "What do you want?"

"We're actually friends," Sam says. "So-"

" _ We _ aren't," Tory says.

Miguel takes a bite of his muffin. It's pretty good. "Blueberry chocolate chip?"

"Yeah, with cinnamon." Sam's hair is in three little Rey buns and she's wearing a button-down shirt with a fancy collar. She looks a little bit like a librarian, but like, a librarian who could throw Miguel through a wall if she wanted. 

"Diaz!" 

He gets up and goes around Sam to kiss Tory's cheek, tuck her hair behind her ear. "Happy?"

"No," Tory says, which means she's fine. "It's not about  _ you _ , dumbass." 

"Yeah, yeah," Miguel says. He takes his seat- and his muffin - back. "What's up, LaRusso?" 

It does feel weird to be like this with Sam. Not like when he thought about her all the time, when he dreamed about kissing her, but not like right after, either, when the thought of Robby and Sam sent shards through his chest. It's something different, now, blossoming into something that isn't out of control like those other feelings, just - something solid, something real. Early days, though. 

"Just checking in," Sam says. 

"You're sick of Demetri," Tory says, judgmentally. Miguel doesn't think that's very fair; Demetri's never done anything to Tory. He's never really done anything to anyone, honestly, but Tory absorbs grudges like a sponge and Hawk is, to be fair, very hung up on that one.

"I am  _ not _ ." But Sam looks, pleading, at Miguel. "Come on, seriously?"

"I would respect you more," Tory hisses, "if you would just man up and hit me, instead of whining all the time." 

"I would respect you at all," Sam snaps, "if you would shut the  _ fuck  _ up."

Tory tilts her head, considering, and then she nods and sits back onto her stool. 

"I just miss him," Sam says, quietly. "I know it sounds stupid but more than anything else he's my best friend, and I can't sleep because I  _ know _ that he doesn't think about himself at all, and I hate it. And not even my shitty little brother will eat my fucking stress muffins."

Miguel was about to take another bite. The muffin is fine. A little dry. He squints at it. "Your dad settle down yet?" 

"You still mad at him?" 

Miguel shrugs. "Are you?" 

Sam looks up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. "Yeah," she says. "If he'd just - if anyone would fucking  _ listen to me -  _ Robby would never have left, and everything would be fine. But he feels bad about it. Like, really bad."

Tory leans over Sam's shoulder to pick at a muffin out of the box. "Well, if he  _ feels  _ bad."

"Can you just take it!" Sam says, batting at her like a cat.

Tory smirks, holding up a big chunk of muffin. "No, I'm good."

Sam narrows her eyes at Miguel. "Whatever," she says. "I just think we need to like, make a plan. For what's going to happen after this is over." 

"Oh?" Miguel asks, but that's when the sub comes in and they actually have to pay attention.

-

Miguel thinks about putting it off for after lunch, for a little. If he and Tory sit with the Cobras there's no chance of Sam sitting in, even with Aisha sending out her  _ please get along  _ vibes, they're too ragtag to let a rich kid just walk in, especially a rich kid from Miyagi-do. 

The thought doesn't last long, though, and he waves at Hawk when they see each other in the lunchroom -  _ catch you later, man. _

Tory raises one eyebrow. It's so fucking cool that she can just do the one. When Miguel does it he looks like an 80s porn star. "Really?"

"You don't have to come," Miguel says, feeling defensive.

"Oh, I'm coming," Tory says. Sharp teeth, like a wolf. She turns her bracelet around on her wrist.

"Hey," he says. He lets himself settle to a stop, catches Tory by her hip so they're standing still, so he can look her in the eyes. "Can you just - ease up on her? Please?"

" _ Miguel, _ " Tory says. 

"You won," he says, quietly. "Remember? And she's freaking out."

Tory closes her eyes. "Okay," she says. "But you better make it up to me."

He leans in to kiss her. "Thank you."

Sam's waiting by the outside doors, arms crossed over her chest. "I didn't know if you would come," she says, like a confession.

"Of course I came," Miguel says. He wants to say more - wants to lean in, kiss her cheek - but Tory's here, at his shoulder, like a knight on Game of Thrones, so he doesn't. He offers her his best smile, instead. 

"Me too," Tory says, waving. "I'm here."

Sam rolls her eyes. "Great." 

"Outside?" Miguel asks, to cut it off. "It's nice out."

"Yeah," Sam says. "Okay."

They end up sitting by the steps at the school entrance. Sam tucks her knees up to her chest and Tory stretches out, glaring at any freshmen who drift too close by. Miguel sits in between them, wishing he'd brought leftovers for lunch. Hawk always steals all his food so he only does it when there's a ton, but he's like, pretty hungry. 

He squints into the sun. It really is nice out, a blue-sky LA day, not a cloud in sight. He hopes wherever Robby is he's getting a little of it, at least. 

"You told him to call me, right?" Sam asks. When she looks at you, with those big eyes, it really feels like you've got the whole world in your hands. "Thanks."

"Sure," Miguel says. "He really wanted to, the whole time. He was just -" 

"I know," Sam says. "We talked about it." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know he doesn't want to freak me out, and I get that, but I just - I'm going crazy, you know? By myself."

"Yeah," Miguel says. He does. 

He checks his phone for something to do with his hands: no new messages. Just Hawk asking where the fuck Miguel's gone now. 

Sam's watching him do it. "Nothing?" 

"Yeah."

She sighs. "Like I was saying, I think - he clearly trusts you, right? And he trusts me, and he's not like, making the best decisions right now. So if we all have the same suggestion for him, you know, so he doesn't have to choose between anything -" 

"There it is," Tory says. Not malevolent, just grim, satisfied. "You want him back."

"Not the way you make it sound!" Sam looks at Miguel, pleading. "I just - I think he should be in a position where he'll be likely to succeed. That's all."

Tory blows a raspberry. 

"Tory," Miguel says. He puts his hand on her knee, to soften it. "What did you have in mind, Sam?" 

Sam swallows. "Well," she says. "My dad says he can come back with us, because it's like, a better environment. And he can sign back up for school, my mom is on the PTA so they'll let him in."

"And it'll be just like nothing happened?" Tory's vibrating under Miguel's hand. 

"I think he's gonna be happy to forget about it," Sam says. "No offence."

"Hey," Tory says, looking down the line of her jaw at Sam. "Just a question. You ever think about just giving him the money?" 

"What?" 

" _ Tory _ ." Miguel shakes his head. "He wouldn't take it."

"You don't know that," Tory says. She shakes Miguel off and leans forward, onto her hands. "You don't know how serious it is. Everyone's too proud until they're really up against it. And you know your dad wouldn't actually give you drug money, even if Robby is a cute fucking kid with those big hurt eyes."

"That's not-" Sam says, but then her phone goes off and she says, "Sorry, I gotta-" Her eyes narrow as she scans the screen and then she's up on her feet, running down the stairs, and-

There he is, in the sunlight, wearing Miguel's clothes, Mickey Mouse backpack slung over his right shoulder. 

"Hey, Sam," Robby says. He's smiling that same wide smile, the one with the dimples that Miguel only just learned exists. The black eye looks worse in full light, lurid almost, and yellowing. 

"Oh, fuck no," Sam says. "Absolutely fucking  _ not. _ " Her voice cracks and she's running full tilt, and Robby's catching her in his arms, wrapping her up and holding her tight. 

Miguel looks away. It feels like he shouldn't be watching. 

"I've been so scared," Sam says, and she's crying, he can hear it. "Robby, please tell me you're coming home."

Robby and Sam are sitting tangled up in each other. Sam's head is on Robby's shoulder and Robby is holding her hand. It feels weird to look at, too intimate to see head-on.

And Miguel feels - kind of bad? Maybe? It's like:  _ is this what you do with everyone? _

It's  _ what you do with anyone who will have you.  _ It's  _ anything so they stay. _

Tory's looking at Miguel, that same calm way that she gets before a fight, when she thinks something bad is going to happen. Tory is too sharp for her own good. He's pretty sure she's the one she's cut the most.

"I gotta go," Robby says. "Sam, I really can't stay."

Sam sighs. "Are you sure? There isn't - you can't?" And she traces the pads of her fingers over the bruise on his cheek, careful, delicate. Miguel remembers when she would touch him like that. "Is there anything we can do? Or me?"

Robby smiles that same careful, sweet, smile. It looks different when it's for someone else. "No," he says. "But thank you." 

"I'll walk you out," Miguel says, firmly. He squeezes Tory’s hand and gets up.

Sam looks like she's going to say something, but she doesn't, just lets Robby unwind from her and frowns. The little furrow between her brows makes her look like an anime heroine. But with smaller boobs. Not that Miguel is looking at her boobs. Just like, for the analogy. Simile? Metaphor? One of those.

When they’re a little away Robby closes his eyes. “Don’t start,” he says. “Please.” 

“Yeah?” Miguel’s voice is sharper than he meant it to be. Which isn’t - he didn’t do it on purpose. 

“It’s not,” Robby says, “I mean, it is, but it’s not-” He looks down at his feet. "I just don't want to make her sad."

"Robby," Miguel begins, and then - "Do you want to be with her?"

Robby kicks the dirt. "Yeah? I mean, of course. Why wouldn't I? She's perfect. Being there, with her - it's the best thing that ever happened to me."

It's not like Sensei but it is like Sensei. "Robby, what do you want?"

Robby exhales, blowing a long strand of hair away from his face. "I just want to be done with this," he says. "Not anything else. Just that."

"And?" This is where Miyagi-do lets you down, Miguel thinks. Because you defend yourself, you defend others, you keep the peace. But Cobra Kai - that's about finding the truth, even if it hurts. 

Robby winces. "I just - don't want anyone to be hurt. Especially because of me."

It's a world away from the Robby Keene who threw Miguel against walls, but also, not at all. Robby doesn't trust people, because he's had no reason to; and when he does get that reason he's terrified that it will all fall apart.

Sensei is always afraid Miguel will leave him, too. He'd never say it but it's there. Before Miguel understood he thought Sensei was being an asshole but now he knows he's just afraid of losing a good thing he doesn't deserve.

Miguel says, "How much longer do you need?"

Robby rubs the heel of his hand over his good eye. "I'm going to talk to him this evening. I think I have enough to make a good offer. I think he'd be stupid not to take it."

Miguel's heart thumps. "Yeah?"

Robby offers him a careful, tiny, smile. "He goes back to school next week. He doesn't want to deal with this, I'm sure."

"Okay," Miguel says.

"So it really will be over," Robby says. Hopeful, not sure. "I gotta go, Diaz."

"Yeah," Miguel says. He looks at Robby and Robby looks back at him. "Okay. Bye."

There's a car on the corner. Black, low to the ground. Robby doesn't look back; he just gets in.

Miguel takes his time walking back, stares at his own shoes for part of the way. He probably should scrape some of the dirt off. Maybe they can go in the washing machine. 

Sam and Tory are standing, waiting for him.

Sam doesn't miss a beat. She closes the distance between them with her hand around Miguel’s wrist and tugs, and then they're in the parking lot in front of Sam's Audi.

"Sam," Miguel says.

"Did you see his face?" Sam asks, without waiting for a response. "Get in the car, Miguel. Tory, if you want to come you have five seconds to get in."

Tory considers it. "Yeah, okay." She slides into the backseat. "Nice leather, LaRusso."

"Thanks," Sam says. "Before you say it: yes, my dad paid for it. It was expensive."

Tory laughs. "Settle down, tiger," she says, but it's warmer than she usually is.

Miguel settles into the passenger seat. "So what's the plan, Sam?"

She grins at him, a broad, sharp thing. "Schoolyard rules," she says. "We need a parent."

Miguel wants it on the record: this was not his idea. He said, "this is a bad idea," at least three separate times. 

Tory said, "Stop being such a bitch," which is absolute betrayal, and more proof that dating a girl who thinks chaos is hot sometimes has at least one down side. 

Sam just looked at him, with those big eyes, and said, "you got a better idea?"

He did not, in fact, have a better idea. Not one that he could say and honestly believe would work. 

They pull in next to the familiar yellow and black Challenger. Sam and Miguel are looking at each other and Miguel wonders if she is thinking about their  _ not a date _ too, when she came to pick him up and they went to Golf N Stuff. That was a good day. One of the first really good ones, the one where he felt like the future was going to happen, like it was something to look forward to. 

He doesn't tell Sensei about that much because it doesn't help him. It isn't good for him to get too caught up in what was, in who Miguel used to be. But it was harder before him, and it's brighter now that he's here, and that's not just true for Miguel. 

"Hey," Tory says, leaning over the centre console. "Can you talk in words?" 

Sam laughs. "Sure," she says. "You wanna come in or just watch?" 

"Hm," Tory says. "I think I choose voyeurism. Unless you think you need the backup."

Sam scoffs. "As if. You coming?" That last, to Miguel.

He sighs. "Yeah, I am." 

Sam looks out of place here, in Miguel's home, where he lives; she's too bright for all their washed out colours, that's how it feels, even if he knows it's not true. Everything about her feels bright and sure and that's not what he is. 

"Hey," she says, looking at him, carefully. "If you don't want to-"

"No," he says. "I- I don't think what he's doing is a good idea, either." That's true, he doesn't. He doesn't know that this is the better option - he feels pretty sure that it isn't, but who's he to tell Sam what to do? He doesn't know anything. That's been pretty well established. 

It just - it doesn't feel right. It feels like stabbing Robby in the back, like kicking him when he's down. It feels like doing the thing he said  _ please don't _ . 

"Okay," she says, raises her hand to the door and knocks once, twice, and then in an enormous clanging succession.

The door cracks open. Sensei's head pokes around it. His hair is standing up like he was just in bed, but he also smells a lot like Coors. Odds are Coors in bed. 

"Mr Lawrence? Hi. I'm Sam. Sorry about that time my friend T-boned your car. We're not friends anymore, if it helps."

Sensei just stares. "I'm going to shut the door now," he says.

Sam steps forward, one foot through the door, little buns bouncing. “I’m sorry,” she says, and now her voice is friendly but implacable, like a knife wrapped in silk, “that you forget all the time, but you’re actually an adult. You have been the shittiest dad on Earth and I am giving you a chance to be  _ marginally  _ less shitty, so you are going to let us in and you are going to sit down and listen when I talk. Okay?”

Sensei closes his eyes. The lines on his face are deep, exhausted. "LaRussos," he says. "Fucking LaRussos."

"I brought you a salad," Miguel says. He holds it out.

Sensei looks between them and takes the salad. “All right,” he says, waving his hand. “Come on in, LaRusso.” He raises his voice. "You too, Nichols. I don't trust you alone out there."

It looks less like shit than the last time Miguel was in here, but it still looks pretty bad. Beer cans everywhere, a pizza box open on the couch. 

Sam, to her credit, doesn't say anything; just sits down carefully on the couch next to the pizza and folds her hands on her knees. She looks kind of like a Mormon missionary, especially with the collar on her shirt, but Miguel is not going to say that.

Tory hoists herself up on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs. "Got a beer?"

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Sensei mutters, but he tosses Tory a Coors anyway. "Just one."

She raises it in a salute. "That's why you're the best," she says, popping the top, and even though he rolls his eyes Miguel can see the little smile at the corner of his mouth.

"You want anything, Diaz? LaRusso? There's some Coke in here." He bought that for Miguel, because Miguel could only have tap water when he came over. Miguel wonders what Robby drinks, what he likes. 

"No thanks," Miguel says, "but you should eat the salad. It's not fried. It's from that smoothie place, the one you swear about every time you see it. The one with the pun name."

Sensei glares at him but he opens the plastic clamshell, spears a tomato with the plastic fork, and puts it in his mouth. Sensei loves Miguel, you know? He does. 

"Happy?" 

"Exuberant," Miguel says. "Thanks, Sensei." He sits down on the couch, next to Sam. "Hey."

"Hey," she whispers back. She takes a deep breath, pulls her spine straight, like for a kata. "Mr Lawrence?" 

Tory and Miguel both flinch. Sensei or bust, right? But he isn't her Sensei. 

Sensei is eating his salad suspiciously, leaning against the counter. "Ms LaRusso."

"I'm worried about Robby," she says. She speaks slowly, deliberately. "I think he's right to say that there isn't anything I can do to help, but I don't think that means he doesn't need help." 

Sensei chews, swallows. "I agree," he says, low, sincere. "But Robby - he doesn't ask me for much, and he asked me for this. To stay out of it."

Sam doesn't flinch, doesn't falter. "I know," she says. "But, no offense, that's because he doesn't know what it's like to have people on your side. My dad would -" she shakes her head. "You haven't seen him. He got hurt yesterday, he's limping, he looks like shit."

Sensei does flinch at that. One hand curls around the edge of the counter, knuckles white. 

Tory looks over, thoughtful. 

"He's in trouble, Mr. Lawrence. He needs help, and it has to be somebody - we're all in high school." Sam bites her lip. "There must be something you can do."

"Listen," Sensei says, "I would love to. I'm not just saying that." He looks down at his hands, at his feet. "I know you care about him. I get it. It's - complicated. Robby's been on his own his whole life." 

"And whose fault is that?" Sam bursts out, and sinks back down into the couch. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, you did," Sensei says. He takes a long drink from his can of Coors. "How bad does he look?" 

"Pretty bad," Tory says, quietly. "I wouldn't say it if it weren't true." She won't meet Miguel's eyes. 

Sam's wrapped her arms around herself. She's tiny all the time but now she's tinier, shrinking: all the steel falling away, like flakes of rust. "I could get my dad to call his dad. Luke's dad, I mean. They know each other." 

"Jesus Christ," Tory says. 

"Well, I didn't," Sam snaps. "I'm here instead, okay? I'm trying my best." 

"Hey," Sensei says. "Settle down." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Diaz, you've been quiet. You usually have an opinion one way or another."

Miguel swallows. "He said he'd be done tonight," he says. "But he also said he wouldn't get hurt. So." 

"Right," Sensei says. He spears a piece of lettuce and brings it up to eye level. "And what exactly is it that he's doing?" 

"I-" Miguel can't do it. He won't. 

"It's money," Tory says, smoothly. "He needs money." She drinks her beer, the line of her throat pale in the light. 

"Christ," Sensei says, muttering practically to himself. "Why wouldn't he just tell me?"

Sam coughs. "Not to be rude-"

"That's rude, LaRusso," Sensei says. He scratches his temple. "I do run a successful small business, thank you."

Miguel's stepped on the paperwork. He knows what it looks like - which is mostly good, surprisingly - but it also ends up covered in ketchup, like, all the time. 

The point still stands. "He's not going to take it."

"Not unless he needs it." That's Tory, quiet again, clear. 

Sam rubs her eyes. "Can you,  _ please, _ just go with him? Can  _ someone _ go with him?" 

Sensei eyes her thoughtfully. "You think he'd let me more than you? Any of you?"

"Because he'd blow me off, the way he blows off anything that puts anyone else in danger," Sam says. "Except you, Mr Lawrence. Because he knows," and here she pauses, looking away, like she feels bad saying it, "because you owe him, big."

They drove around for an hour, trying to find him. Sensei drove, in the way that he drives when he is kind of drunk but not dangerously so. Usually he won't drive Miguel when he's been drinking, not that he'd say it in those words. 

Sam did the texting. Miguel felt, basically, like a pussy the whole time, but Sam tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said, "he won't see it coming if it's me," and Miguel couldn't argue with that. 

They end up at North Hills High. Robby's waiting in the parking lot, shading his eyes with his hand. He does look pretty shady like this, Miguel thinks.

Sam gets out first, but Sensei is close behind her. Too close. Miguel finds himself out of the car before he can realize what his body is doing; he has to pull himself back, keep himself at the car. Just within earshot, but not close.

The anger ripples over Robby like a wave. Miguel knows that switch because it's with him always, the shift from peace to war: it's what Sensei taught him, but Sensei taught him on purpose. Robby just is.

"What the fuck, Sam?" His hands are balled into fists at his sides; it's almost reassuring, Miguel thinks, that under all the new Robby - the careful, quiet, kind one - the old one persists. 

"I'm sorry," Sam says, holding her hands up, palms out. "I'm really sorry, Robby. I didn't know what else to do."

"I don't know," he snaps, "maybe  _ not  _ call my fucking dad, the one person on this god damn planet I told you not to call?" 

Sensei raises his eyebrows. "Thanks for that." 

"You earned it," Robby says, wheeling on him. "And you - you should know by now that the one thing I expect you to do is stay out when I tell you. You can't do anything else."

"Robby," Sensei says, "I know you don't trust me. I won't do anything, I'm not here to fuck your shit up. I just need you to know I'm here."

Robby flinches, looks away. "It'd be a first," he says. 

"Yeah, well," Sensei says. "Gotta start somewhere." 

They're staring at each other, like a fight. But Sensei isn't striking and Robby won't, and that makes it balance. 

Sensei takes one step forward, then another. Robby's holding his ground, but his knuckles are white. It's not Miyagi-do, it's Cobra shit, but he's stock-still, frozen. 

"You know what I'm doing," Robby says. A question, even though it doesn't sound like one.

Sensei sighs. "I can put two and two together," he says, "yes." 

"You don't wanna tell me I'm throwing my life away?" That last almost helpless. Almost like a kid, but that's not Robby, so the steel is still there. 

"Robby," Sensei says, getting right up close to Robby, his voice gentler than Miguel's heard him almost ever. "I know what rock bottom looks like. I don't think you're there yet, and I hope you never get there, but I know what it feels like when the only way out is through." 

Sam's slipped back, away. She bumps her shoulder against Miguel's. 

He bumps his shoulder back. Good old LaRusso magic.

Tory raises one eyebrow but she's smiling, just a little. That careful suspicious smile. 

Robby shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. The black eye still looks like shit but Sensei hasn't said anything about it. "I don't know."

"You don't have to," Sensei says, that same careful tone; sometimes he gets it with the littlest kids in the baby classes, but mostly he just yells at them. "I'm your dad, Robby. You can just trust me." 

"Let me spell this out for you," Robby says, slowly, disbelieving. "You want to - what, ride shotgun? Drive me around? While I sell illegal drugs."

"Well, I'd prefer it if you didn't sell the drugs at all," Sensei says. "But - yes. I don't want you to do this alone."

"No," Robby says, incredulous. "For so many reasons! Have you heard of confidentiality?" 

"I'm not gonna tell anyone. I don't know anyone to tell. Who'm I gonna tell, Bert?"

Robby frowns. "Who's that, the short one?" And then he shakes his head. "It's serious. It's a real job, there are - things that have to be done."

"Come on, it's not a job."

"I wouldn't have had to do it if you had actually paid child support," Robby says. "So, yeah, that makes it a job."

Sensei does flinch then. "All right," he says. "I'll call it whatever you want, as long as you don't shut me out here. Look at you, kid. I don't want you doing it alone."

"Diaz," Robby says. He swivels his gaze to the three of them standing by the Challenger, eyes piercing, vast like the ocean. "I'll do it if you promise to do what Diaz says."

" _ Jesus _ ," Sensei says. He shakes his head. "That's not fair, Robby."

Robby straightens his shoulders. "Then you don't mean it." 

"Robby-"

"It's fine," Miguel says. His voice is so clear; when did that happen? "I'll do it. Robby, I'll keep him from doing anything you don't want him to. Okay?"

-

"I wish you'd just let me give you the money," Sensei is saying. His hands are tight around the wheel. 

Robby's sitting in the front, grim-faced. He hasn't said much since they dropped Sam and Tory off at their respective cars, and he keeps looking back at Miguel like he's gonna disappear. 

It's what Robby wanted, anyway; when they dropped Sam off at her Audi he leaned over, said, "You should go home, too."

Miguel shook his head. "I said I'd do it."

Robby looked sour, exhausted. "You know I only said it because I didn't think he'd let you."

It stung, of course. Miguel kept his face even, treading water. "Well," he said, "he did."  _ He didn't put me first. He's still your dad.  _

Robby winced. "I don't want you getting involved with this," he said. "My dad's one thing, but you -" 

"You don't think I can take care of myself?" 

"I think - you shouldn't have to." 

"Well, you shouldn't, either." It was easy to say it, looking at Robby. 

"This wasn't-" Robby said, sighing, waving at the bruised side of his face. "It wasn't a thing from the job."

Miguel's chest felt tight. He felt like he could see the future, like everything couldn't help but fall into place. "Luke?" 

"Not him. He wouldn't ever - do it himself, I mean." That laugh, hollow. "Don't fucking tell my dad. I'm not kidding."

"I won't."

"Not like you didn't tell him about this. I'm serious."

It stung. "I swear."

Robby shook his head. "I really can handle this. And him."

"Okay," Miguel said. "But one question, and you have to answer before you can think about it: would you feel better if I stayed?" 

"That's not," Robby began. 

"So that's a yes," Miguel said. 

And Robby sighed, but it wasn't a no, either. 

"You don't have that kind of money," Robby's saying, leaning his cheek against the windowpane. 

"Oh, come on. Like you're gonna make that much in what, two days?" 

"It's five grand," Robby says, tightly. "Cash."

"Oh," Sensei says. "I can -" 

"I've seen where you live," Robby says. "You can't."

"You're my kid, Robby. If you need it -" 

"That's a fuckin' first." Robby sighs, turns his face to the sidewalk. "Make a right here, and drop me off, I'll meet you three blocks away. Okay?" 

"Got it."

It's weird, sitting here with Sensei, in the parking lot of another strip mall. Miguel is used to sitting with Sensei in strip malls, it's not that that's weird, but - 

They've done five of these, all over LA. Just in and out, Sensei and Miguel sitting in the Challenger while Robby - goes and comes back. It's kind of cool to see Robby in this element, like it was to see him at that party at Luke's. It's kind of like how he gets on the mat, that icy cool calm that Miyagi-do won't shut up about, but it isn't really like that at all. 

"Thanks for coming," Sensei says, gruffly. The streetlights are starting to glimmer, pale and weak against the afternoon sky. "I wish you weren't here, obviously. But - thank you."

"Of course," Miguel says. And - "I'm sorry I didn't go to you first. It shouldn't have been a LaRusso."

Sensei rakes his fingers through his hair. There's no music on the sound system, and the sounds of traffic are enormous but also muted, overwhelming and background at once. "I don't know," he says. "I think you were loyal to him. And I appreciate that."

"But -" LaRusso's  _ daughter.  _ Whatever Sensei and Mr LaRusso are doing, it's not uncomplicated, and you can't just boil it down to friendship. 

"I'm glad she came to me, that's not what it is. I wish you'd have talked to me, but I really wish it had been him. But that's what I'm trying to change about Cobra Kai, you understand? To live in that grey." Sensei twists in the front seat, so he can look at Miguel. His eyes are blue, not green like Robby's. But clear and bright just the same. "You made a tough decision. She made one, too. Both of you were thinking of my kid first, and that's - I'm glad he has that. I'm glad I didn't fuck him up enough to not have that."

"He knows you love him," Miguel says, because that's true, he thinks. And then - "I think he's happy you're here."

Sensei nods. "I wouldn't have thought of it," he says. "And, God, Diaz. You're my kid. You wouldn't think of it either. How could I be mad at you for that?" 

"Sometimes you just need a LaRusso," Miguel offers. Keeping it light, keeping it careful. 

"Wouldn't go that far," Sensei grumbles, but there's that little spark in his eyes, the warmth. 

_ Love you, too. _ Miguel does not say it. He just smiles. 

They do fifteen short drops - Robby in and out after five minutes - and four longer ones - Miguel and Sensei sitting around for a half hour that feels like forever, eating slim jims and thinking about Robby's fucked-up face. But Robby comes back after all of them, flushed but calm. 

Tory texts,  _ everyone alive?  _

_ Kind of,  _ Miguel replies.  _ For right now, at least.  _

Robby's counting cash in the back seat, brow furrowed with grim determination.

Sensei's playing Speedwagon, drumming his hands on the wheel. "Where to next?" he asks. He's getting into it, trying to cover the nerves with teasing and jokes, but it's kind of nice. 

Robby raises one eyebrow and looks at Miguel. "Calabasas please, driver," he says, the smirk pulling easily across his bruised up face. 

"Yeah?" Miguel asks. Maybe the relief is showing. Who cares? 

"Yeah," Robby says. The smirk blossoms into a smile. 

The neighbourhood looks the way it did before, but it feels different. They're still out of place, obviously, even more than they were in Tory's beat up blue Camry, because the Challenger is fucking black and yellow and covered in snakes, but it's like it is whenever Miguel is with Sensei, like nothing can get him, because they'd have to go through Sensei. Like that first night in the mini mall when Sensei was on his feet and all those guys just falling around him. 

Now he knows Sensei, of course, and he knows Sensei is a far cry from indestructible, but it's still - they'd have to go through Sensei first. 

It sucks that Robby doesn't get to have that. It's a good feeling. It feels safe. 

"I'll meet you down the block," Robby says. He looks meaningfully at Miguel and the message is clear:  _ don't let him think this one's any different. _ "Maybe twenty minutes. I'll text Miguel if I need anything."

"You sure?" Sensei says. "I gotta tell you, this gig is way less stressful than I thought it would be."

Robby laughs. "Don't quit your day job."

Twenty minutes. Then twenty five. Then thirty. 

Sensei's getting itchy, pulling on his collar and fidgeting with his hands. "Maybe we should go for a walk," he says. 

Miguel rubs his fingers over the screen of his phone. Nothing from Robby, just some Pokémon memes from Hawk. "We promised," he says. 

"Miguel, I swear to god-" 

Miguel's screen lights up: new message, no text. But it's from Robby. 

Miguel's heart leaps into his throat. The rush is like stepping onto the mat and seeing that the guy opposite can do backflips. "We gotta-" he starts, but doesn't have to finish, because Sensei is already out the door. 

"Wrong way," Miguel calls, getting out of the Challenger. He doesn't bother checking behind him; he knows Sensei will follow. 

The gate is shut. Miguel pelts up and over, lands hard on the gravel. Doesn't miss a beat running to the entrance so he can slam his hand against the huge elaborate double doors. Who needs a fucking cherub on a door? 

He can feel Sensei on his heels. Sensei is not as fast as Miguel but he is strong and solid and-

"Robby!" he yells. "Robby!" 

Sensei is there. The climb and the fall ripped a long line in his jeans and there's dirt on the knees, he's breathing heavy, and he looks - "Open the fucking door!" Sensei shouts. 

And then - it opens. One smooth and easy pull. 

"Don't worry about it," Luke is saying, a smirk slashing across his beautiful face, "it's just the cavalry."


	6. Chapter 6

There's like, ringing in Miguel's ears. It feels like when Kyler and those guys got him, at the Halloween dance. He could see his life flashing before his eyes. It felt like he was outside of his body, watching the shit get kicked out of him.

That's how he feels now, like he's floating in Calabasas over the entryway of this million dollar fucking mansion, watching his body and Sensei's body lean into the doorway, watching Luke watch them; and inside, behind Luke, there's Robby, standing still.

"Christ," Robby is saying, "can you just back off, please," and he's stepping forward, but Luke puts his hand on Robby's chest, pressing him back.

The guy is huge, close up, which Miguel knew, intellectually, but Robby looks small against him and Robby isn't small. Robby's not tall but he's solid, there's a lot more of him than you expect, and he kicks in his sleep so you cannot actually avoid finding that out, and- He shouldn't look small. That's the point.

"Chill out, Robby," Luke says. His smile is easy but it doesn't reach his eyes. "It's all fine. Can you go back inside, please?" He turns to Miguel. "Diaz, seriously, what have I told you about trespassing? You keep this up and we might have to get the authorities involved. And you know, that's  _ immigration _ ." 

"Hey, man," and that's Sensei, pushing himself in between Miguel and Luke. Sensei is big, and that's good. Nobody has ever made Sensei feel small. 

(Sensei Kreese, back when- 

But he's not here. He's gone. Sensei made him leave and since then things have been better.)

"We don't want any trouble," Sensei says, firmly. "But I'm not going to say this twice: I want my kid back. Robby, c'mere."

Close up to each other, they look - fucking alike. The same broad shoulders, bright blond hair, same clear blue eyes. Even the way they stand is the same; that heavy, solid presence against the earth. Daring gravity to do its worst. 

Miguel's seen footage of when Sensei was young - from the first two All Valleys, and even the last one, the bad one. He was handsome, in that classic All-American way, the kind of handsome that you'd put on a McDonalds ad. Not like Robby, who makes up for the delicacy of his features with all that bite. Sensei moved like - well. Like a hate crime, if you're gonna put it that way, which Miguel won't because he knows Sensei now, and they are friends, and Sensei still doesn't know how to order a taco but they're working on it and he's doing his best. 

Luke does not look like he is doing his best. Luke looks like a fucking TV quarterback who is also a model and who does 80s movies where he throws nerds into lockers. Luke looks like the kind of guy who uses slurs from the 50s and says it was ironic but doesn't know what  _ ironic _ means. 

"Luke," Robby says. Miguel's been on the other side of him enough to know it would take him nothing to grab Luke's wrist, hit the lever with his knee, knock him down so he wouldn't get back up. But Robby's not doing that. Robby doesn't do that - not around Luke. When Robby's with Luke he gets quiet and agrees with things and ducks his head, and then Luke kisses him, so everyone can see. "Can you, please - I just want to go. We had a deal."

"We had a  _ conversation _ ," Luke says. His hand tightens on Robby's shirt. "Okay," he says, looking at Sensei and Miguel. "Why don't the two of you come in and we'll all have a conversation together?"

Miguel very much does not want to go in and have a conversation. But Sensei squares his shoulders and nods, so what the hell else is he gonna do? He follows Sensei in. 

It looks different in the daylight. All the party crap is gone and it's just a beautiful, expensive McMansion, the kind of thing that's on the real estate websites Miguel's yaya is always scrolling on her tablet.

"Can I get you anything?" Luke asks. "Beer, soda?" 

He's led them into a sitting room, with big wide windows and huge white couches. The carpet is white, too. It's definitely not Luke who does the cleaning up, here. 

Luke looks at Sensei, nods almost respectfully. "I'm sorry about before. It's really good to meet you, finally. I know we've met before, but it's good, you know, now that the truth is out."

Robby is hovering beside him. 

"Babe, sit down," Luke tells him. "It's okay, it's good. It was gonna happen sometime." He pushes Robby very gently into the couch. 

Robby sits.

"Excuse me," Sensei says, "what was going to happen?" 

Luke smiles at him. It's a dazzling smile, a Colgate strips smile. That's a man with good dental. "Robby was really nervous about telling you," he says. "About us. I know you had some trouble with it at first, but I think you'll see that it's cool to be alive in 2019." He leans over, pressing a kiss to Robby's temple; Robby shivers, but doesn't pull away. 

"Sure I can't offer you anything?"

Sensei is looking at Robby and Robby is not looking at Sensei. "No," Sensei says. "Just my kid, like I said."

"All right," Luke says. He sits down next to Robby, curling his hand around Robby's knee. "So, about that."

Sensei sits down. Miguel sits down next to him, but his heart's beating fast. He could be on his feet in a second, if only Robby would - do anything. Say anything.

But Robby's just sitting there, letting Luke put his hands all over him. 

"Shit, of course," Luke says, looking at Robby and then at Sensei. "Babe, you gotta- of course. It's a fucking black eye. You gotta tell them what happened." 

Robby ducks his head. "It was an accident," he says. "Luke's friend was being a dick. He was hitting on this girl, and she wasn't interested-"

"Scott's a good guy," Luke interjects. "He's just, you know, he's working on a little bit of a drinking problem. Robby's a gentleman, an absolute credit to you - he stepped in. Scott didn't mean to, but he's a big guy and he forgets his proportions sometimes."

"It really was an accident," Robby says. He keeps looking between Luke and Sensei, little darts of his eyes. He looks like a prey animal. Miguel hates it.

"Don't worry," Luke says. "I got one back for him." 

"Yeah, sure," Robby says. The bruise is healing, but it still looks pretty bad. "You did get it back. I promise, you don't wanna see Scott's face."

Sensei looks stupid. He keeps looking between Robby and Luke, like he doesn't understand what's happening, like his brain has just ground to a halt, like the time they tried to get him to watch a bunch of best vines on YouTube and he just sat there for a full two minutes and then threw the mannequin. "Exactly - how old are you?" 

"I'm a sophomore at Stanford," Luke says. "We were a little younger when we met." 

_ We just want to get out, _ Miguel thinks, trying to beam it into Sensei's fucking brain.  _ Don't fucking talk to him!  _ But they're both following Robby's lead, because Robby told them they had to, and - 

And Robby's just sitting here. Robby's looking at Sensei like - 

Like he doesn't know if he can trust Sensei. Because Sensei's said a lot of nice things but he hasn't had to actually see Robby and Luke, hasn't had to see Robby  _ with _ someone, a someone who's a man, and Robby's spent his whole life with Sensei letting him down. 

"We were in high school," Robby says, slowly, thoughtfully. "You were - a junior? Is that right?" 

"Rising, yeah." Luke smiles, again, the smile with too many teeth. "You were such a firecracker. This kid was so much trouble, just on my case all the time until-" His fingers are rubbing Robby's knee. 

"Until you caved and agreed to date me?" That's wry, so skeptical it's almost reassuring: there's that Robby Keene attitude.

"Until you swept me off my feet," Luke says. "Until I realized how stupid I'd be to let you go."

Sensei's brain is still stuck. If it was a cartoon there'd be smoke coming out of his ears. If this wasn't serious Miguel would be laughing - quietly, of course - but he'd be laughing. But it's serious. 

"It's been two years now," Luke says. "We had a little rough patch, but - things are looking up now, right?"

"I don't know if I'd say it like that," Robby says. But he's looking at Luke, eyelashes flickering, mouth in neutral. "Is that how you'd put it?"

"I went a little," Luke says, looking at Robby, "a little feral, I guess. In freshman year of college. Had to get it out of my system. I'm glad this guy waited. Especially since, no offense, but Robby's had so much trouble trusting that anyone could be here for him, right? I love Shan but she's not exactly stable."

At that Robby does flinch. "Luke," he says. "Don't talk about my mom like that." 

"Sorry," Luke says. "You know I don't mean it like that. She's doing her best, and you're awesome, so. I'm just explaining that you're amazing. You made it through all of that, and you're still here."

Robby turns his face to look at Luke, searching his face with those clear bright eyes. "Yeah?" 

Sensei clears his throat. "I agree," he says. 

Everyone snaps around, even Miguel. "What?" That's Robby. 

"I won't say anything about Shannon. That's not my business. But Robby," and Sensei smiles, that small sweet smile that fills his eyes up, like he's overflowing, "you're a great kid. You made it through - so much shit you shouldn't have had to. And you're so smart and so brave. Every day I wake up and I see you I think,  _ god,  _ how did I get this lucky? How the hell are you still talking to me?"

"Dad," Robby says. "C'mon, you don't have to-"

"No, don't," Sensei says. He looks at Luke, square, head-on. "I do. I love you, Robby, no matter who it is you're with. You could be with an octopus and I'd be just as fucking proud of you. Do you get that?"

"Dad-" Robby starts. 

But Luke cuts him off. "We've been talking," he says, smoothly, "and I think Robby should come to Stanford with me. I have an apartment this year, there's plenty of room, and I'll sit on him, get him back in school. There are some great online programs, and he'll be around people who got into a good college. I think it'll be good for him."

"Robby, what?" Sensei is on his feet. 

Robby's shaking his head. "That's not happening."

"You need me," Luke says, softly. "Robby, look at what happens when you're by yourself."

"He's not by himself." That's - oh. That's Miguel. Huh. 

Luke looks at Miguel. Clear, sharp, cruel. "Really? And you would know?" 

Robby turns on him. "What the hell?" 

Luke shrugs, hands out. "Sorry, babe. Just asking a question."

"Well, don't," Robby says. He looks at Sensei, then at Miguel, then back at the floor. "I'm not going to Stanford. You don't mean it, anyway, you're just saying it."

"Robby," Luke says, looking meaningfully at Sensei, "can we do this later?" He closes his hand over Robby's thigh, higher up. 

Robby shakes him off, gets to his feet. "No. Stop it."

_ Thank God _ , Miguel thinks. He gets up, too. 

Luke grabs Robby's hand. "Hey, c'mon. Don't say something you'll feel bad about."

Robby swallows. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't sit back down, either. "Luke -" 

Sensei clears his throat. "Robby, if you actually want to be with this guy," he says, "I'll deal with it. I think he's full of shit, and too pretty for his own good, but if this is your -  _ guy _ \- that's fine. I dealt with it when you were with a LaRusso and I'll deal with this. But I don't think this is what you want. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Mr Lawrence," Luke says, calmly, quietly, "who the hell are you to know what your son wants?" 

At that Sensei steps forward. Miguel thinks maybe he's gonna go for Luke, maybe the tension will shatter around them like the time Aisha kicked Hawk into the dojo mirrors and the glass went everywhere; they were stepping in it for hours. 

Robby's still, though. Still like a statue, still like a snowflake. Still like a block of ice in the moment before the chop comes down. 

Sensei sees it, too. Miguel watches the vein in his neck pulse, watches his fists clench, watches him take a deep, deep, breath and reel himself in. 

"I'm the one who took him home after school," Luke says, grimly. "I'm the one who threw him birthday parties. I'm the one who saw you fail to even fucking call him for Christmas. Okay? I know exactly who you are."

Sensei's face ripples through all the emotions. Miguel used to think he only had like four and they were all variations on drunk but now he knows there are at least twelve and they're all variations on self loathing. 

When he used to look like this, it was when Sensei would say something really mean to Miguel, maybe to Hawk or Aisha. Usually it was right after Sensei had done something shitty. Like the time Hawk had to get the tetanus shots, and the time Miguel got the shit kicked out of him (the first, third, sixth times). 

"Fuck you," Robby says, and he does pull away, then. "Look. I gave you the money. We're done. This is over. You can't keep me here."

"How many times have I heard that?" An arched brow, a pointed look at Sensei, before he turns back to Robby. He's still sitting down, arms spread out along the back of the couch, legs wide. "He fucked you up, Robby. Both of them did. You don't know what a good thing looks like, until you walk away and then you come crawling back. Isn't that how it works?" 

Robby flinches but he doesn't move. "Okay," he says. "I'm a spineless loser. What the fuck do you still want with me?" 

"Don't," Luke says. "Don't put words in my mouth. You know you matter to me. Why would I still be trying if you didn't?" 

"Because you hate not having things," Robby says, quietly. "Because your dad doesn't give a shit, either, and if you have everyone under your thumb they won't leave you. And I was scared of being left and you knew that."

Luke's face twists, that handsome face distorted by sheer, blind fury. He flows to his feet, right up in Robby's face, catching Robby's wrists with his hands and holding them against Robby's chest. 

Robby freezes, like a pinned butterfly. "Luke," he whispers. 

Luke leans in, presses his forehead against Robby's. "Don't fucking test me," he says. "Do not."

Robby swallows. "Don't do this," he whispers. "Please." 

"Remember two years ago?" Luke murmurs, pulling Robby in. "You said you'd never talk to either of them again. You said, remember, you said  _ you're the only person I'll ever need.  _ Who took care of you when you were sick? Who taught you to drive? Who has always,  _ always  _ been the person you call?" 

Robby takes a breath. A long, shaky, rattle. And then he shakes himself free and steps back. "Not anymore."

Luke's body twists, the rage rushing over him. He reaches out for Robby with a blind kind of violence, the kind that doesn't end. 

Miguel doesn't see himself moving, doesn't feel it at all: just one second he is standing a little away from Luke and Robby, and the next he is right in front of Robby and Luke's fist is coming right at his face, too fast for Miguel to use his thinking brain. 

"What the fuck," Luke shouts. 

Miguel drops Luke's twisted wrist. Maybe it's broken. He's not Miyagi-do but even in Cobra Kai they learn how to neutralise a fist to the face. And, like Sensei always says, the best defence is offense. "You know we do karate, right?" 

"I am going to sue the shit out of you," Luke says, looking at his wrist like he can’t believe it. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"No, you aren't," Robby says. He steps in between them easily, a calm coolness coming over him. Like he was on that mat with that fucked up shoulder, still good enough that he almost took the trophy home. "Back off. I know everything about you, remember?"

"Robby," Luke sneers, cradling his hand with the other, "you're a high school dropout with a record. My dad's a fucking Senator. How do you think this goes for you?"

Robby doesn’t move but his eyes look like they do when he’s been hit. "You're right," Robby says. "Nobody gives a shit about who I am. So it doesn't matter if I blow everything up, does it? It's not like it's going to get  _ worse.  _ Not like you, though. You're always telling me how the future's so bright. Top of your class at Stanford. Fortune 500. I'm just a teenage runaway, I don't have shit to lose. But you - of course you'd have good lawyers, of course nothing would stick. But you  _ know _ what those people are like. You know it's the whispering. If I was a girl, sure, some fourteen year old you'd met and started fucking and got running your drugs for you nobody would give a shit. But I'm not, am I? Things are moving but they're not moving that fast." He's breathing hard. His hair's tangled around his face. He looks - brave. Beautiful. 

Sensei takes one step forward, till he's at Robby's shoulder. Doesn't say anything but from the flutter of Robby's eyelashes Miguel sees he knows he's there.

Luke's face is fucked up, twisting in pain and fury. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Miguel doesn't speak rich kid but he can translate that.  _ You win. _

"I'm sorry it had to be like this," Robby says, quietly. "I just wanted to leave."

"Fuck you," Luke hisses. "Think about this the next time you're in trouble. Think about how you fucked up the best thing that ever happened to you."

Robby shakes his head. "I'm sure I will," he says, looking at Luke. His eyes are flat like the ocean on a cold, grey, day. "Goodbye."

"C'mon, Robby," Sensei says. He puts his arm around Robby's shoulders, pulls him in very gently, and Robby lets him do it. "Let's go, Miguel."

“Good luck with that!” Luke yells, after them, as they leave.

Robby is silent all the way to the Challenger. Sensei keeps his arm around him and Robby lets him, doesn't pull away - even tucks himself a little bit into Sensei's side. Miguel doesn't go too far away, but he doesn't get too close, either.

At the Challenger they all stop. Sensei needs to unlock the car but he isn't moving, he just has Robby leaning into him, his hand tight-knotted in the back of Robby's shirt, which is, in fact, Miguel's shirt. "Hey, kid," he murmurs, into Robby's hair.

"Hey, Dad," Robby whispers back. He turns, putting his face into Sensei's shoulder.

Sensei says, "Are you sure?" His voice is so gentle. Gentler than Miguel has ever heard it, except maybe when he was fucked up, bleeding, after Halloween, and Sensei carried him all the way home. 

"Yeah," Robby says. 

Sensei wraps his big hands around Robby carefully, delicately, pulling Robby into his chest. "I'm so proud of you," he says.

Miguel shouldn't look. He should turn away.

But - 

He doesn't.

Sensei sees him looking; offers him a smile that if Miguel didn't know Sensei as well as he does he'd think maybe had tears in it. "C'mere, Diaz," he says, gruffly. Holds out his arm for Miguel, and Miguel comes in, into the warmth of Sensei's broad chest and Robby's soft hair pressing against Miguel's cheek. 

"Thanks for coming," Robby says, pulling back. He wipes his face with the back of his hand; his eyes are a little bit red. Not too much. "I - I don't know if I could have done it without you."

"He's convincing," Sensei says. "But you'd have done it." He looks at Miguel, smiling a little bit. "Maybe it would have taken a little longer. You Miyagi-dos don't strike first, but you do strike last." 

"I'm sorry," Miguel says. "I didn't mean to - do that." 

"It's okay," Robby says. "He deserved it. He went for you first, anyway." He swallows. "I'm glad it's over."

"You did good," Sensei says. He tugs Robby against his side again, presses a kiss to the top of his head - wondering, as though he can't believe he's doing it, that Robby's letting him, that both of them want him to. "You want pie? I'll take you for pie."

"Can we just-" Robby shakes his head. Wipes his face again. "Can we go home? Please?"

"Yeah," Sensei says. His eyes light up.  _ Home. _ "Of course. Anything you want."

  
  


Robby's quiet in the front seat as they pull into the lot. Sensei played Thunderstruck all the way home, not too loud but the right amount of background noise, so Miguel couldn't like, drown in his own thoughts - so none of them could. 

"I really thought I loved him," Robby says, softly. 

Sensei is all the way out of the car, but Robby and Miguel are still inside. Miguel freezes. 

Robby stirs, looking at Miguel; offers him a wry, tired smile. No dimples. "Sorry."

"No, I- I don't mind." He doesn't. It's nice that Robby trusts him. It feels like when Sensei tells him he did good; like he's earned something precious, enormous. 

Robby shrugs. "It's just stupid. I should have known. I'm good at taking care of myself, I should have been smart enough not to fall for it."

Miguel doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know where to begin. Doesn't know if Robby even wants him to say anything, really, or if it's just that Robby wants to talk and be heard. Or not even be heard, just to talk. "You're smart," he says, to sum up all those things.

Robby sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "Thanks," he says. And then, "shit - can you - do you think you could text Sam for me? She should know it's all okay."

"Sure."

Robby laughs, quietly, mostly to himself. "She did kind of fix things," he says. "At least part of the way."

"So did you," Miguel says. "Hey - thanks for stopping him from, you know. Calling the cops."

"Thanks for being there in the first place," Robby says. "You wouldn't have been in that position if it wasn't for me, so."

"Can the two of you come inside!" Sensei yells.

They look at each other. Miguel feels himself grin, the kind of smile that stretches your face from the inside out; Robby's grinning back at him, that big wide smile, with the dimples, and someone is laughing, Miguel can't tell who, and then it's both of them, doubled over in the Challenger while Sensei says, "what the fuck is wrong with you two?" and goes inside.


	7. Chapter 7

It turns out there was a Chem test in fifth period, which Miguel and Sam both missed because they were cutting class. Tory isn't AP so she didn't miss it, but she gets stuck in Saturday morning detention anyway because at any given moment at least two teachers want to throw Tory in detention. 

Sam's hair is loose today, curls spiralling down her back. "Hey," she says, leaning across the bench, "are you two free after this? My dad's grilling."

Tory looks at Miguel, shrugs. "Sure," she says. "I love a good steak."

-

Everything is kind of settled down, now. It happened so fast, just in a day; things were bad and now they aren't. Robby's been sleeping at Sensei's and Sensei's been less wasted all the time, and Miguel and Tory are good, happy. Miguel doesn't know what's happening with Sam and Robby, but it's actually not his business so he hasn't asked. 

Tory's driving. Miguel's leaning against the window on the passenger side, thinking about fucking algebra. 

And - 

"Hey," he says. "Tor? Can I tell you something?" 

He's been putting it off. It shouldn't mean anything, he knows that. But it's also not just him who gets to decide. 

"Yeah?" She's humming, heels of her hands draped over the wheel. "What's up?" 

"Can you pull over?" 

She turns, looks at him. The sun falls on her face; she looks beautiful, because she is. She looks lit from the inside. "Diaz?" 

"Please?" 

Her jaw firms and she turns back to the road. "Sure."

It's silent while she pulls them up against the curb. Miguel's mouth is suddenly dry. 

Keys off; Tory unbuckles her seatbelt and turns in her seat, pulling one knee up against her chest. "What's up, buttercup?" 

Miguel sighs. No mercy. "Robby kissed me. I kissed Robby." He wants to reach out for her but he doesn't. "It was a couple days ago and it wasn't about me, I don't think. He was freaking out. But I - I kissed him back. I just didn't want to not tell you."

She's quiet for a long time. He searches her face, her beautiful face with its sharp eyes and sharper mouth. "It's funny," she says, at last. "I'm not surprised. It doesn't feel - it's just like, oh, of course. We're alike, I think, him and me, and I want to kiss you all the time, so." She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at him. "How many times?" 

"Just the once," he says. Like that makes it any better. "I stopped it."

She nods. "Okay," she says. "Thanks for telling me."

"You're not -" furious, devastated, betrayed, "- mad?"

She shakes her head. Her hair falls like a curtain around her face. "What about Sam?" 

"I don't know," Miguel says. 

She sighs, but there's a little smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. "Diaz, I swear to god, if you dump me for LaRusso's boyfriend and we have to do some bullshit girl power bonding, I'm gonna be so mad. I do not wanna go axe throwing with her."

It's a joke but it isn't. 

"He knows I'm with you," Miguel says. "I know that, too." He swallows. "I mean. If I am."

The laugh bubbles out of Tory, startling both of them. She claps her hand over her mouth and then, through her fingers, "yeah, yes."

Of course he leans forward, to look at her bright eyes, to press his forehead against her forehead and say, "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

She closes her eyes but she doesn't pull away. "Yeah," she says. "That probably would have been better."

And then they are looking at each other, Miguel's hand resting on Tory's knee and Tory's hand on Miguel's hip. He wonders what he looks like, if he looks guilty or tired or innocent. 

"He was freaking out," Miguel says, again. This is Robby's business, and he wouldn't just throw it out there, but - it does matter, because it's about Miguel, too. "He'd just left - that guy. You said he talked to you about him, right? How he like, made him feel fucked up."

Tory nods, searching his face with her eyes. Just looking. 

"It sounds bad when I say it like this," Miguel says. "Robby's not -" 

"I know," Tory says. "I know him, too."

Miguel sighs. "I said he could stay over, so he wouldn't have to go to his dad's, or back with Luke. And I think he just - really wanted to make sure I meant it." He winces. "That came out wrong." It's not like Robby said  _ if I let you fuck me will you stay?  _

"No, I get it," Tory says. "I won't say anything to him. Unless you -" She looks down in a sweep of eyeliner and eyelash. 

"Unless I?" 

"You were enemies," Tory says, quietly, "and now you're not. Those feelings don't just go away. You don't just - hate someone and then not care."

"No." His stomach churns. "I did kiss him back." He's never felt the way he feels about Robby Keene for anyone else. But - he's never felt like he feels about Tory about anyone else, either. Maybe this is just growing up. Finding different things to love in different people. Finding new ways to break your own heart. 

"And then you stopped it." She reaches up, curling her fingers around the side of his face. Gently, kindly. "Why'd you stop?" 

"It wasn't the right thing to do," Miguel says. Immediately. "He would have felt like shit. He wouldn't have been able to trust me."  _ Like how he can't trust Sam.  _

"That's why you stopped him," Tory says, slowly. "But why did  _ you  _ stop?" 

Miguel closes his eyes. 

Miguel knows the answer she's looking for.  _ I thought of you and I couldn't _ . But he's a bad liar and she knows it, and he doesn't want to lie about it. Or to her.

"I didn't want him to not trust me," Miguel says. "That was the first thing."

Tory's eyes flash. She takes her hand back, leans back in her seat. "Okay."

"You were there," he says. "You saw Luke."

She brings her hand to her mouth, biting her lower lip. "You just wanted to be a hero?" 

"No. I just - didn't want to fuck it all up." He's wanted to be a hero and sometimes he's even come close. Not with Robby, though. 

"But you would have?" This, softly. "If there was no Luke and no me?" 

Then there'd be Sam. And Sensei. Robby and Miguel have never just been themselves to each other. 

But that's not what she means. 

"Maybe," Miguel says. "I don't know."

Tory breathes out, hard. 

"I'm sorry," he says. He wants to touch her. "The last thing I want is to hurt you."

"But that's not why you stopped."

"Well, it should have been." He looks away, down at his hands. "I don't know. That's not true either. He's my friend. I needed to be thinking about him. He was the most important person, right then."

It's quiet, just the traffic passing them by, the sound of her breath and his breath. 

Then: "Hey," she says, gently. "That sounds right to me." 

He lifts his head and she's smiling, that sweet, sharp smile. There's a sharpness to Tory he thought was being brittle, once, before he got to know her; now he knows it's like that Japanese art, where you take a broken thing and fill all the cracks with gold, so the new thing is stronger, better, more beautiful than before. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says, and then she leans in to kiss him.

-

It's nicer at Sam's now, when Robby isn't missing and Sensei isn't drunk. The pool's open and Mr LaRusso is grilling beside it, while Sensei heckles him from a deck chair, with a Banquet. It's still kind of weird - Miguel isn't Miyagi-do, he's a cobra, and this isn't where they belong, because they belong at Cobra Kai, with everyone else - but it's not  _ so  _ bad, because Sam is here and Robby is here, and Sam's mom put out some great potato salad, and Tory and Sam are only glaring at each other a little bit, which is like friendship for them. 

Tory hooks her chin over his shoulder. "You should talk to Swayze," she says, lightly. 

"I do nothing  _ but  _ talk to Robby," Miguel says. "I talk to Robby all the time. This morning Robby came over to ask for milk and I gave it to him."

"C'mon," she says. "Look at them." 

He follows her finger to Robby and Sam, sitting next to each other at the table. "What about it?"

" _ Look _ ," Tory says. She flicks him very gently in the ear.

Robby is eating potato salad and Sam, sitting next to him, is showing him something on her phone. Robby's wearing shorts and a t-shirt and Sam is wearing a sundress.

"Oh," Miguel says. 

"Yeah," Tory says. "Okay, good talk, I'm gonna go see if I can scam a beer off Sensei."

"Hey," Robby says, pushing his hair out of his eyes when Miguel comes over. "You want some potato salad? I think the grill's gonna take a minute." He makes a face, jerking his chin in the direction of Sensei and Mr LaRusso, who have graduated to bickering while both of them stand next to the barbecue.

Sam looks over. "Yeah," she says. "That's - really happening." She shrugs. "At least it's both of them. They seem fine." 

"Who'd have thought," Miguel says. 

Robby offers him that sweet, easy smile. "Well," he says, "Sam and Tory aren't trying to kill each other, either, so. We're in an age of miracles."

"Hey!" Sam punches his shoulder, but lightly. She pulls her hand back, after, crossing her hands over each other in her lap.

Robby watches her do it. Thoughtful, cool. 

"Can I talk to you?" 

Sam tilts her head. "You're leaving me alone with Nichols?" 

"You can flip me, you can flip her," Robby says, getting to his feet. "The second a burger comes out I want one." 

Sam raises both eyebrows. "Yeah," gesturing at Sensei and LaRusso, who have abandoned the grill to circle each other, "I think you're good to take your time."

"Is that uh," Miguel says, "gonna be okay?" Sensei is waving his arms around and they're kind of close to the edge of the pool. 

"Yeah," Robby says. "I think so, anyway. C'mon, Diaz."

  
  


They end up sitting on the air mattress in the guest house. It's really nice, which is not surprising because everything in LaRusso's house is nice. It feels like the kind of thing a white dude who watches too much anime would do, which Miguel figures kind of describes both Mr LaRusso and Sensei. Except Sensei isn't lame about it. 

There's a book about Okinawa on the floor, and a pile of clothes next to the mattress.

Robby catches him looking. "I should clean that up," he says, shoving the pile with his foot. "I guess I left in a hurry."

"Yeah," Miguel says. He swallows. "Um. I told Tory about - what happened. The first night you stayed over."

Robby flinches. "Okay."

"It's not - she's not going to say anything about it. I just - you know. I couldn't not tell her." 

"Right." Robby sighs. And then he frowns. "You know what? No. You  _ could  _ just have not told her." 

Well, it was nice while it lasted. Truces aren't really what they do, not between the two of them, not with all this history. Miguel doesn't get up but he lets that knowledge settle into his bones:  _ the cobra is always ready to strike.  _ "She's my girlfriend," Miguel says. "And I kissed someone else."

"It didn't  _ matter, _ " Robby says, eyes skittering away, down to their feet. "You think I told Sam?"

"I think you told Sam  _ something _ ," Miguel says. "Because you guys are -"

Now Robby does get up. "We're what?"

"Can you, just," Miguel says. He waves his hands. "Just sit back down. Tory's not mad or anything, it doesn't - it's fine. You and Sam just aren't, you know, finishing each others' sandwiches. Like normal." They're not sitting on each other, touching each other. That's what Tory saw. She thinks about Sam the way Miguel used to think about Robby. Every little detail salvaged and put aside, in case it became important.

"There aren't any sandwiches." Robby's pacing, now. Just a tight little circle but it's like a panther. "We broke up, thanks for the concern."

"Jesus," Miguel says. He gets up, because it's stupid to sit while someone else is standing. He knows how to fight Robby, knows how to get in past his defenses; he's been training to fight Robby since the All Valley last year. He doesn't need to yell about it, though. Robby's just as attuned to him as he is to Robby. "Can you please just talk to me?"

"Why?" Robby spits, getting up into Miguel's face. Big eyes, dark eyelashes; Robby spins on a dime but Miguel's like that, too, when it comes to him. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"I thought we were cool," Miguel says. He reaches out, feels his fingers curl around Robby's wrists, feels the pulse in them rocket, ricochet, up through his forearms, into his arteries, where his heart is beating, and Robby - 

Doesn't pull away. Just stares.

"Robby," Miguel says. His thumbs press against the pulse points on Robby's wrists, the rest of his fingers curling around the bone. 

"I wanted to kiss you," Robby says, biting the words out. His eyes blaze. "It didn't not mean anything." 

"Oh," Miguel says.  _ What the fuck, Miguel?  _

"Diaz," Robby says, each word gritted out through his teeth, "if you don't shut your mouth you'll get flies." But Miguel's still holding his hands and he is still standing right there and they are still looking at each other.

"You said," Miguel says. He feels stupid. Like his tongue is too big. "You were freaked out. It was like - with you and Luke. And with Sam. You didn't want me to leave." 

Robby closes his eyes and steps forward, so their chests are almost touching, their hands wedged between them. "Diaz."

"Keene," Miguel offers, helpless. 

"I'm not, like, a fucking flower or something," Robby says. "Or the sad girl in a Lifetime movie. I wanted you."

"Did you just-" Miguel's heart pounds. His fingers tighten of their own volition and Robby lets him do it, even though it feels like his fingers might leave prints. "You didn't break up with her for-" 

"What would you do if I did?" But Robby doesn't let it hang in the air too long. He steps back, pulling his hands away. "It wasn't - I don't want to move back here. She didn't get it."

His hair falls into his eyes. He looks like he does when they fight. 

"Robby?" 

A soft, raw, laugh. "She didn't know she was doing it. Because she wasn't doing anything. But - I just got used to it, you know? Because I was like that with him. Because if I ever fucked up -" He shakes his head. 

"She wouldn't." 

"And she didn't." Robby begins to pace again. He doesn't let Miguel see his back. "But I wasn't, either. I was just saying everything I knew she wanted to hear." 

"Never had that problem with me," Miguel says, as lightly as he can manage. 

Robby freezes. 

"Oh," Miguel says. 

Robby isn't looking at him. The light's coming through the walls, along his profile. "Don't," he says, like it's painful to get the words out. 

Miguel breathes in through his nose. "Hey. Can you - just sit down?" Pulling out the big guns: "Please?" 

"Fuck you," Robby says, gritting his teeth, but he sits. "Don't say it, Diaz, I will break your nose for real."

"Your dad would get so mad if you did," Miguel says, lightly. 

"Not if it was a fair fight," Robby counters, amicably. "He loves one of those. He'd drive you to the ER himself."

Miguel laughs, despite himself. "Yeah," he says. "No kidding, he'd break it down the whole drive."

He could, if he wanted, turn around and kiss Robby right now. He knows what Robby feels like; he knows how Robby tastes. (A little. Not enough. Cigarettes, allspice, spearmint.) 

Robby is watching him, eyes wide, lingering on Miguel's mouth. 

It's an enormous chasm. Like walking off a cliff. It seems inevitable to open his mouth, to say, "I want-"

"Tory," Robby says. Sharp, too sharp. His eyelids slam shut and his face turns away. "She's -" 

"Right outside."  _ My girlfriend. Someone I don't want to hurt. Someone who matters.  _ "Fuck." The air is heavy. Miguel looks down at his hands. His knuckles are dry. He should get some lotion. 

"He used to lie to me," Robby says. "Like, a lot. It didn't seem like it mattered because everyone else was lying, too."

"I wouldn't," Miguel says, because his mouth is dry and his hands want to be - somewhere else, not here, empty. "I just. I would, you know?" 

"Diaz," Robby deadpans, "you say the sweetest things."

They sit in silence for a little while. The barbecue sounds from outside are muffled, like they're from another world. 

Miguel doesn't really know what to say so he changes the topic entirely. "Mr Larusso seems-" 

Robby nods, too quickly, like he's grateful for the excuse. "He's a good guy. I only left because I didn't want him to have to ask me to leave."

"But you're not coming back."

"Being here is complicated." Robby shrugs. "I understand who my dad is. He said he'll drive me to Miyagi-do, so."

Miguel whistles. "For real?" 

"Yeah." Robby's mouth twists, half a smile. "Maybe he is a better person. I'm not holding my breath."

"But you're moving in."

Robby laughs. "Yeah." He looks at Miguel sideways, through his eyelashes. "Neighbours."

"The sinks always fill up," Miguel says. "Sensei comes over to do ours." Technically he's teaching Miguel to do it. Miguel has not learned how to do it. Miguel's pretty sure Sensei just likes poking around, being handy. 

Maybe it'll be different now Robby's around, but - probably not.

"Great," Robby says. "The one thing he can fix."

Miguel grins. "Gotta start somewhere, right?" 

Robby's hair falls forward. He's leaning towards Miguel, such a little slope maybe he didn't notice. But Miguel noticed, so probably Robby knows he's doing it. 

Miguel takes a breath and leans forward, to tuck that loose strand of Robby's hair behind his ear, so his fingertips can graze the curve of Robby's cheek. 

Robby takes a breath. Miguel forgets how to breathe. 

"Fuck," Miguel says. He pulls his hand back.

Robby flinches but it's quick, barely perceptible. "We should-"

"Yeah," Miguel says. "Glad we understand each other." 

Robby laughs, a dry, hollow thing. "Sure," he says. He gets to his feet, offering Miguel a hand up. When their fingers touch it's - 

Miguel pushes his own hair out of his eyes. "You think the burgers might be up?"

"Maybe," Robby says.

The burgers are not up, because Sensei and Mr LaRusso are in the pool, trying to drown each other. Sensei is grabbing Mr LaRusso by the hair and Mr LaRusso is trying to knee him in the face.

"Huh," Robby says.

"Kill him!" yells Sam's little brother, hanging over the edge of the pool.

"You know," Robby says, "I think that's the most excited I've ever seen him."

"Should we," Miguel says. He's not really sure what they would do, exactly. Jump in the pool maybe? 

Mr LaRusso manages to get on top of Sensei, and shouts, "we're fine!" while waving at Robby, before Sensei gets his knees out from under him and they both disappear underwater.

"Don't worry about it," says Mrs LaRusso. "I'm just gonna order in. Pizza okay with everyone?" 

Tory ends up grilling while Sensei and Mr LaRusso wrestle around in the pool, until they both get tired and end up sitting on the steps together, fully dressed and soaked through. 

"Hey, Dad," Robby says. "Sick moves."

Sensei flips him off, but he's leaning back, squinting into the sunlight, and he looks pretty happy. Even Mr LaRusso doesn't look like he's chewing on a lemon, for once. 

Sam comes over, like she's gonna put her hand on Robby's shoulder, but she pulls it back at the last second. He makes a face at her and she rolls her eyes back at him. 

Miguel was never actually friends with Sam LaRusso: he had a crush on her, and then she kissed him, and then it was a whole Romeo and Juliet thing, and then it was like the end of Romeo and Juliet but more dramatic. 

Not like Robby. Robby and Sam are friends and maybe they slip over that line, sometimes, but they're friends first. They were each other's only person, for all that time. So it makes sense that Robby would - not want to lose that. 

Like Miguel didn't want to lose him, because they are friends, and Miguel likes being Robby's friend. 

He does. 

"Don't think too hard," Sam says, smiling at him. "You're gonna get wrinkles."

"No way," Miguel says. "My mom says I'll have baby face forever, I got this."

She laughs. "Hey," she says, "did Robby tell you my mom got him back in school?" 

"Yeah?" He looks at Robby. 

Robby ducks his head. "I start on Monday," he says. "Gets my dad off my case, too."

Tory yells, "If none of you assholes talk to me I'm burning your burgers," and then she says, "oh my god, I'm sorry, Mrs LaRusso."

Mrs LaRusso's laugh is the same as Sam's, bright and delighted. "That's okay, honey."

Miguel gets up and goes to see the burgers. They do look good. Tory's good at this shit.

"Hey," she murmurs, hooking her pinky through the belt loop on his shorts, "you good?" She looks over at Robby, who catches her looking and waves. 

"I think so," Miguel says, quietly. "Maybe. I don't know."

She turns to face him. She's beautiful, that's for sure, and he - likes being with her. All the time. Now her brow is furrowed and her eyes are very bright. She looks at him, considering, and then says, with the clarity of a snap decision, "We should talk about this."

"What?"

"Nothing bad. But after the burgers are done."

Sensei is very drunk and so is Mr LaRusso. They are so drunk that Sensei is wearing a hoodie that Mrs LaRusso gave him out of Mr LaRusso's closet, and Sensei has not said anything about how small it is; he is simply lying on a deck chair next to Mr LaRusso, staring at Robby. It's almost like they're friends, or something. 

Robby follows Miguel's eyes. "He said sorry," he says, quietly. "Mr LaRusso. For not believing in me."

"It helped?" He knows it does, because Sensei's said it to him, and it made him feel like everything in the world was going to be okay. 

"Yeah." He has freckles in this light, all across his nose. "It helps that I - don't live here anymore."

Miguel nods. For a long time it was just him and Sensei, and everything Sensei said was the most important thing that had ever been said. Now there are the Cobras, and Tory; Sensei is still important, the compass pointing north. But he's not the only person who matters. 

And Robby matters, too. 

"Hey," Sam says. "Earth to Miguel." She's grinning, though, her sweet Disney princess smile. "Pass the chips."

"Oh, sorry." The bowl's beside him; he lifts it over Robby's head to Sam on the other side of the table. 

"Thanks."

It's a perfect California afternoon. The sun is loose and bright on all of them and Tory is wearing a bikini top and her boobs look great, not that he's staring. They're sitting with the remnants of the meal, at the table. Robby's next to him and Tory's on his other side and Sam doesn't think he's a piece of shit. What more could you want? 

The weight of Robby's eyes electrifies him. He thinks about the way Robby looked when he was kissing Luke, the way Luke's fingers tangled in all that hair and held him. 

Luke was delicate when he wasn't mean. Like Robby was fragile. 

Miguel knows he isn't. Miguel knows Robby could slam him against the wall, the floor, whatever - 

Shit. 

He shakes his head and drinks his drink - just a coke with some lemon slices, courtesy of Mrs LaRusso - trying to ignore the heat surging up his spine. 

Tory's resting her chin on her hand. She has freckles, too; it really was a long summer. She's looking at him, but at Robby, too. Usually she isn't so quiet for so long, but it doesn't feel bad. It feels like they're settling into each other. 

Like, for the long haul. 

Sensei comes over, resting one hand on Robby's shoulder, the other on Miguel's. "Hey, kids." He smells like beer and chlorine but he's smiling, not the bitter one Miguel is used to but something happier, more true. Miguel thinks it would have been nice if it could have been him to give this to Sensei, but maybe he will always think that. 

"Old man," Robby says, easily. 

"Hey," Sensei says, ruffling his hair. "That's  _ your _ old man."

Robby winces but only for a second, and he doesn't pull away. 

Miguel bumps their knees together, because you know what? They are, in fact, friends. 

LaRusso trails after Sensei like a Santa Ana wind, resting his chin on top of Sam's hair. "Thanks for coming, all of you."

Robby smiles, ducking his head. 

Tory tangles her hand in Miguel's. "You're welcome," she says. 

LaRusso is tearing up. "Robby," he says, "you know how I feel about you."

Sensei's hand tightens on Miguel's shoulder. He doesn't say anything, though. Just leans over Miguel and takes a chip. 

"Mr LaRusso," Robby says, gently, "you know I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," LaRusso says. "You know, I just. Every time I think about how much this guy-" he points to Sensei, "made my life a living hell, it doesn't make it feel as bad. Because if you could show up, well."

"Hey," Robby says. "No credit to him." But he's smiling, to take away the sting. 

"One day I'll get you to Cobra Kai," Sensei says, easily, with no bite. 

"Keep dreaming," Robby and LaRusso say, in unison, reaching out to high five each other across the table. 

Tory's fingers tighten. 

"Robby, I'm sorry," LaRusso says, sighing, settling into the chair beside Sam's. "I shouldn't have called your dad. I should have trusted you." He's so drunk, he's swaying. 

Sam puts her hand on his shoulder. "Dad-" 

Robby's shoulders are tight. "It all worked out," he says. "Don't worry about it, Mr LaRusso."

"Dad," Sam says, "you wanna find that gelato you were talking about? I'll help you plate it."

LaRusso blinks. "Oh yeah," he says. "You're gonna love this, they fly it in from Italy."

The gelato is good, but Sensei and LaRusso both use it as an excuse to keep drinking. Sensei gets drunker after that, but LaRusso is also pretty fucked so it seems to balance out. Sam's mom sighs and says, "It's better than dicks on my billboards."

Sensei is the kind of stupid who thinks he is going to drive himself home. He is not going to drive himself home but he won't let them get him to the car so Mrs LaRusso asks if Robby would mind putting him in the pool house. Robby says of course he wouldn't. 

Robby and Miguel team up to pour Sensei onto the air mattress. Robby is more careful than Miguel's used to seeing him with Sensei: he takes his shoes off, pulls the blanket up over him. 

Miguel never had to do that for his mom. She's his mom.

Sensei a couple times, though. More than a couple.

Sensei is flopped on his back like a fish. He blinks up at them. 

Robby says, "Okay, champ." His shoulder presses against Miguel's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, kid," Sensei says. 

Miguel would normally say,  _ don't worry about it, Sensei. _ But he looks at Robby. 

Robby looks back at him. "That one's for you," he whispers. 

"Are we like, brothers now?" Miguel whispers back. 

Robby shakes his head. "Don't start." The weight of Robby's shoulder is warm against him. "You okay?" 

"Yeah." Miguel sighs. "I wish he wouldn't - always do this. Fuck things up when they're good."

"Hey," Robby says. "At least this time he made it to the LaRusso's first."

"True," Miguel says. He raises his voice "Don't worry about it, Sensei."

Sensei shakes his head. "Kids these days," he says, but he says it the way Miguel knows means  _ I love you so much, it scares me. _

"Hey," Tory says. "Last bus home, c'mon." Her eyes are bright. 

"Don't touch my car," Sensei slurs. 

"Whatever, asshole," Robby says. "Like I want 35 year old porno mags anywhere near me."

-

Robby is stretched out in the back of the Camry, horizontal all the way along the seat with his shirt riding up. They should have asked Sam to come but they didn't. Not even Robby. 

Tory isn't looking at Miguel, just straight ahead on the road, one elbow out of the rolled-down window. Driver picks the music and it's Hole, to which Robby said stereotypical much? and Tory flipped him off. 

It feels good. Like Miguel got used to being the three of them, even though they weren't for very long and it didn't work out well for any of them. He misses his friends, the cobras. He wants to sleep for a week but last night his bed just had him in it and that was weird, too. 

There is a thing that theoretically Miguel should go to, tonight. He could also do some fucking algebra. 

Robby says, "You guys wanna come in?" 

Tory says, "Yeah."

-

Miguel is drunk, maybe. Tory is lying on the floor, feet up on the couch between Robby and Miguel. They are watching Planet Earth in Sensei's apartment - Sensei and Robby's apartment, maybe? - and Robby is rolling a joint. 

Miguel pokes Tory's toes. "Hey," he says. 

"Hey," Tory says. Her eyes are not on the polar bears; she's looking at them, at Robby's hands. 

"You wanted to talk about something. At LaRusso's." 

"No, I didn't." It's not convincing.

Robby puts his paper on the table. "What's up, buttercup?"

There's a whole couch cushion between them. It's kind of gross if you look at it too closely, because you can see that Sensei literally never cleans except sometimes when he spills a beer and tries to wipe it up with a paper towel covered in beer.

It doesn't feel that far away. It feels like Miguel could just reach out and -

"Diaz," Robby says. "What are you doing?"

Miguel is poking his cheek. He takes his hand back. "Sorry." 

"You wanna," Tory says, thoughtfully, "Swayze, you wanna spar?" 

Robby blinks at her. "Uh," he says. 

"C'mon," she says. "Scared I'm gonna kick your ass?"

-

The sun's going down, washing the parking lot in red and orange light. Miguel is sitting on the retaining wall, hands cupped around Robby's joint, which he has not lit but told Miguel to hold anyway. 

It's 2-1, Robby. They're not used to sparring with each other but Robby's freakishly talented and Tory's better when she's angry or has something to prove, and she's not really angry now, as far as Miguel can tell. Cobra-style is best when you're on the offense; Tory's usually got that down but right now she's more thoughtful than she used to be, like she's trying to figure something out in Robby's face.

Robby, son of a bitch that he is, is an introspective fucker; Miguel can see the cogs in his pretty little head turning, watch him assessing Tory's sloppy blocking, the way she always leaves her side open when she lunges. Miguel and Tory fight in the same style so they have the same strengths and weaknesses, but Robby's the kind of fighter Tory's wide open for. 

Sometimes that's true of Miguel, but when Miguel fights Robby he slows down, like everything's in Matrix time, because he has to or Robby will toss him. The reverse is true, though: when Robby fights Miguel he gets angry, speeds the fuck up, pushes his advantage and lets some of that balance bullshit fall to the wayside.

"Ouch," Miguel says, sympathetically, as Robby sweeps Tory's leg out from under her, knocking her flat on her back onto the gravel. She pulls him down with her - that's his girl - and they fall together, Robby on his hands and knees over Tory, on her back. 

The air is starting to get that tiny snap of fall, the faintest hint that cool weather might come sometimes soon. Miguel tilts his head up to the bright sky, the fading sun. 

"Keene," Tory says, softly. 

Miguel turns back to them: they're frozen, neither of them moving. Robby's face over Tory's, his hair falling over the sides of his face; her hand flat against his chest, the other gripping his wrist. 

"Nichols," Robby counters. 

Miguel can see the grin on her face, the lion sharpness of her mouth. "Do you still want to kiss him?" 

"What-" 

But it's too late, he's lost the advantage, and now it's his legs out from under him and Tory, draped over him with her lion smile. "I think you should."

"Tory," Miguel says. The buzz is gone, he's fucking sober, like being thrown in the LaRusso's pool.

"What?" she says. "I mean it."

Robby gets off her. Looks at Miguel. His eyes are doing that quiet contained thing that they do, where you're not supposed to see anything, and you don't, except that Miguel knows what that means because he knows who Robby is, at least a little bit, and - 

Fuck.

Tory rolls forward into a cross legged seat on the concrete. She looks - fierce, and angry, and a little bit scared. 

Oh. 

"Hey," Miguel says. "Hey, Tor-" 

She bites her lip. She wouldn't wrap her arms around herself, she's not like Sam, she doesn't show weakness, just like Robby. Sensei taught all of them that. "It's not a trap," she says, and now her voice is quiet, but it's the only sound in the world. "I don't - you really want to. Both of you."

"You're my girlfriend," Miguel says, at the same time as Robby says, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Tory shakes her head. "It doesn't have to be like that, I don't think. Does it?"

Robby is looking at Miguel and every time he looks at Miguel, right now, Miguel wants to kiss him, wants to be kissed by him, wants - well. Miguel wants. "I can't," Robby says, softly. "I can't be anybody's afterthought. Not now. I won't."

Tory is fucking beautiful, now, always. The setting sun catches in her eyes like firelight. "You think we'd do that? Either of us?" 

Robby swallows. "Good people do."

Tory rubs the back of her hand over her mouth. "I don't think I'm one of those," she says. "I don't know. I know it's complicated, all this stuff. Usually I'm like, kind of fucked up? Like - jealous. And I'm that now, for sure. But I guess I - would feel really bad, to be the reason that you don't. If it's what you really want."

"I don't want to break up with you!" Miguel says. He fucking doesn't. He - really likes Tory. He likes being with her and he likes who he is with her and he likes kissing her so fucking much. "Not even when you're being fucking crazy!" 

"It's not crazy!" Tory says. "What are you, like, Sensei? People have - people don't just kiss the same person all the time."

"Yeah, that's cheating," Robby says. Very sharp, too sharp. Sharp like he was when he talked about Luke. 

"Not all the time," Tory says. Her hair's all messed up from the sparring, sweaty, around her face. "Not if everyone knows. Not if - you would feel worse if you didn't."

"It's not like that," Robby says. 

Miguel says, "Why can't it be?" It doesn't feel like the words came out of his mouth, but they must have, because who else would say them? 

Robby turns on him. "What the hell?"

It feels stupid, but- God. If it wasn't stupid it would be - 

Miguel puts the joint down next to his beer and hops down. He offers Tory his hand to pull herself up. 

She tucks herself against him, just for a second. She smells like sweat and beer and that fruit bath and body works thing she keeps in her glove compartment. 

"I didn't know I wanted this," he says. "I promise."

She laughs, a little bit wet. "I know." She reaches up to press her fingers to his cheek. "It's not bad, I don't think. It just means we're not fucking stupid, you know? Not hung up on bullshit."

"I'm hung up on you," Miguel says. He can feel Robby's eyes on them both. Just appraising, though. Not furious. 

They kiss. That's easy. It feels right. 

He feels fuck - greedy, or something. Shouldn't this be enough? 

"It's okay, babe," she says. And then, to Robby, "I hate sharing but it's really not so bad, with you."

Robby's mouth is dark. Maybe he's been biting his lip. "Miguel-" 

Tory squeezes his hand and unravels herself. Three steps back and she's sitting where he was before, and it's just Robby and Miguel, standing in the lot. 

"I know that I said I wanted to mess things up for you," Robby says. "When - my dad said it."

Miguel nods.

"I didn't. That was why I freaked out. Because I didn't want to fuck it all up and I was doing it anyway."

"You weren't fucking it up," Miguel says. "Sensei is - he's a great man, I know, you don't think so, but - he doesn't know how to do stuff like this. Like he doesn't know what an Insta story is."

"I-"

"How many times have you told me to fuck off? I kicked you in the dislocated shoulder and half the time your dad likes me more than he likes you. You don't owe me anything, you just  _ like _ me. And that's okay, because I like you, even though you stole my girlfriend and ruined my All Valley."

"Oh, so it's my fault that you felt bad for cheating to the win?" 

"See?" Miguel's grinning. He can feel it. There's something in his chest that feels tight when Robby gets like that, all wound up and quiet, and it's warm now, soft, because Robby's running his fingers through his hair and he looks pissed off but not really mad, and it's just. Better.

He pushes his luck. One step forward, then another, and Robby's right there, bristling into the space between them, which is steadily closing.

"If you really don't want this," Miguel says, "that's fine. You know it is. You could break my nose and me and you and your dad would laugh about it."

Robby swallows. He's so close Miguel can see the little dots in his irises. "Can I get that in writing, Diaz?" 

"Sure," Miguel says, "I'll fax it right over," and then he leans in, and Robby's there to meet him. 

-

They end up watching the rest of Planet Earth together. Tory drapes her legs over the arm of the couch so she can lean her back against Miguel's side, and Robby sits on Miguel's other side, so Miguel can hook his arm around Robby's shoulders.

It's nice. It's warm, but it's nice. 

It doesn't feel like it needs to be anything else, not yet. Just Miguel and Tory and Robby and a little weed and the polar bears. He kissed Robby and Robby kissed him back and Tory carded her fingers through his hair, after, and that's all that needs to be true.

Also, he is floating. The floating is nice. He is warm in the best kind of way. 

The episode finishes and Tory turns the TV off. Her hair's falling over her shoulder. She kneels up and kisses Miguel, gently at first. She tastes like smoke, a little bit. He tangles his hand in her hair, just for a second, and she laughs into his mouth, biting his lip. 

"Hold up," she says, and then she's letting go, settling over his lap and anchoring herself with one hand on his shoulder. 

Robby is looking at them. His eyes are half-lidded, heavy. 

Tory says, "Can I?" 

And Robby says, "Yeah."

And then  _ they _ are kissing and maybe it's the hottest thing Miguel has ever experienced in his entire life. Strong maybe. There's a lot of weird porn in Sensei's history.

Robby's hand is on Tory's cheek and Tory's fingers are tangled in his hair and Robby reaches out with his other hand for Miguel's.

"That was okay," Tory says. 

"Kinda weird," Robby says. "But yeah. Okay."

But they are smiling at each other and Miguel is smiling at them so maybe it will all be okay. Maybe it is all, even, good. 


	8. epilogue

It's a Wednesday. Miguel is not running late but he is not running early, either. That means he is running late. There's toothpaste on his shirt and his hair is  _ not  _ cooperating but at least he has three trays of leftovers to shove into Sensei's fridge. 

"Hey," Robby says, leaning in the doorway with a toaster waffle in each hand. "You want a waffle?" 

"Ooh, yeah," Miguel says. He opens his mouth and Robby puts it gently between his teeth. "Mmph."

"You're welcome," Robby says. He grins, pressing a kiss to Miguel's cheek. "Hurry up, you know I have that bio test." 

Miguel says, "Mmph," again. 

Robby laughs and takes the top tray - Aisha, veggie lasagna - out of his hands. "Sure thing."

Robby's car is not  _ quite _ a piece of shit - he got that good LaRusso Auto friends and family discount on an 00s Corolla, but the windows still stick when they roll down - but it has an actual sound system, not a tape deck, and it also has Miguel's karate gear living in its trunk. Robby doesn't  _ quite _ drive like a crazy person (Sensei or Tory) but he also does not really care about speed limits.

They pull in next to Tory's Camry in the lot around back, with five minutes to make it to class. 

"How do you not get tickets," Miguel says. "Every morning!"

"You're such a pussy," Robby teases, leaning over to kiss him. His mouth tastes like toothpaste and waffle. "You want your five minutes back?" 

"No," Miguel says, into his mouth. 

It's - early days. Miguel thought maybe it would be weird, having a boyfriend and a girlfriend and not really wanting to - not being ready to go all the way yet, you know? But it's fine. It's nice. It's not that he doesn't  _ want to _ but it's like, they have plenty of time. It's nice to think that they have plenty of time and he thinks Robby and Tory think so, too. 

They make out for seven minutes. 

-

Robby sits with Sam and Demetri in English, because they're all nerds. Robby's been trying to explain Shakespeare to Miguel but it's not working. Sensei has Miguel's back on this: it's fucking stupid. He does always say,  _ you don't need to fail school _ , even though it's not very helpful when he's calling everything nerd shit, but it's fine. They're working on it. 

Tory and Miguel sit in the back, with Hawk and Aisha. That's called the correct balance of the universe.

They don't sit together at lunch. Miyagi-do have a table and the Cobras have two, and it would be way too much to ask them to merge successfully. Sam and Tory are holding on to their truce - as long as Robby's there to be the calming influence between them - but there's no point pushing it. Nobody wants a fistfight in the school halls. 

But Robby comes by to steal Miguel's pudding cup and they grin at each other. It's easier than it has any right to be.

-

After school they do the tradeover, Miguel's duffle migrating sideways from Robby's trunk to Tory's. 

"See you later," Robby says. He kisses Miguel quickly, gently, and Tory after. 

That's kind of weird. They're all getting used to it. 

Tory and Robby aren't quite - it's not the same as Miguel and Robby or Miguel and Tory. But they like each other, and it's fucking hot when they kiss each other, and it's getting Tory to stop pushing Sam's buttons, which is great news for literally everyone.

"Say hi to LaRusso," Miguel says. "Have fun falling into the pond." 

Robby flips him off. "Don't break all your teeth," he says. "I like them in your face."

"Noted," Miguel says. 

"Oh," Robby says. "I'm having dinner with the LaRussos tonight, you can tell my dad, right?" 

"You can text," Miguel says. 

Robby raises one eyebrow. 

"Okay," Miguel says. "I'll tell him."

-

Sensei is on time but he's on the phone yelling at someone about nunchuks so Miguel gets stuck running warmups, like usual. They're all on the mats, taking it easy because it's a conditioning day anyway and yesterday they ran a mock tourney. 

"Hey," Hawk says, rolling his IT band out on the foam roller. "You wanna know what I found in Sensei's search history?"

"No," Tory says. "But you're gonna tell me anyway."

"Shut up," Hawk says. 

"Whatever, incel."

" _ Volcel, _ " Hawk says. "Voluntary celibacy. It's for  _ mental clarity _ ." 

"It's for, my girlfriend dumped me for a hot girl," Tory says. "And I'm never going to fool anyone into getting near my dick again."

"Miguel!" Hawk says, indignant. "Can you control your girl?" 

Miguel laughs. "You walked into that one."

"Should we be checking your search history?" Aisha asks, smile wide across her face.

"It's  _ what to do when my son has a boyfriend and a girlfriend _ ," Hawk says. "Isn't that the best?"

Tory chokes. 

"Yeah," Miguel says. "Kinda is."

**Author's Note:**

> content: fairly toxic relationship w a teenage age gap (14 - 17/18), drug dealing, kids raising a horrible old man (johnny), some latent racist microaggressions, johnny's alcoholism/terrible parenting, brief robby/sam and miguel/sam


End file.
